


What Happened after Rishi

by Reulte



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 30,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24253297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reulte/pseuds/Reulte
Summary: What happened after Rishi...
Relationships: Ventress/clone
Comments: 33
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing spectacular - just life, death, and honor in all their myriad glories.
> 
> Please, all comments welcome. Concrit will be hugged to my heart with lots of love for your bravery.

  
Most of the troopers gulped the ration bars in chunks but Rex tucked bits in his cheek to let it soften. It lasted longer, was better digested and staved off hunger longer. He sucked the sweetness out of it as he waited. He leaned against a crack in the boulder, letting stone take the force of the wind. In the darkness the remains of Rishi Outpost and the Obex looked like boulders of the cratered moon. 

The infrareds in his helmet illumined where an eel was hibernating in its den and the moving light-glints of his brother clones through the broken ribs and charred walls of the building. There was no other movement besides the wind and his brothers. 

Cody, Echo and Fives searched through the building remains, their words little more than whispers and the crackle of their com units. Rex breathed deeply, expecting the tang of smoke but smelling only the chill atmosphere. There was nothing out here anymore but you still set a guard. 

Normally that would have been the lower ranked Echo or Fives, but Rex had volunteered so the remainder of Hevy's squad could search for his remains. That loyalty had been bred into them. During battle you ignored anything not your objective, but after battle you searched. Afterwards, you went and you found your squad brothers – alive and wounded or dead and beyond any further pain. They'd found the remains of the others – even Cutup's mutilated body in one of the shallow craters near the station. But Hevy had detonated the explosive manually. He'd been in the center of that maelstrom of fire and pyroclastic shards.

They'd gone through what wreckage they could immediately after the explosion with help from the arriving LAAP troops, but fire and hot metal had stalled their search for Hevy's remains. It wouldn't have been a long wait until the fire burned itself out. There were few flammable items on the outpost outside the armory and the liquid tibana would have burnt out in only a few hours. But the call had come from Kamino and The Resolute had been rushed back to the only planet the clones knew as home. Even now, they were officially off-duty and had only a limited time before The Resolute moved onward in the slow, never-ending chase. General Skywalker was giving them what time he could.

"He should be here." That was Fives's frustrated voice. There was the rattle of metal on the stone of the outpost's floor as though he'd pushed aside debris. 

"Here are the remains of the plunk. Flowered out and shrapneled." Cody was referring to the distinctive pattern of an explosive in an enclosed space.  
There was silence for a moment although Rex could hear them moving about, Fives hissing under his breath, each clone shoving aside whatever was in his way.

"I don't like this." Cody's voice was soft.

"What, Commander?"

"Hevy isn't here, but what else do you not see?"

Echo was the one who answered. Echo appeared to be the quiet one but didn't seem to miss anything. "No droids. No parts."

And that was bad news. Droids would take droid parts from a battlefield, although not for the same reasons that the clones were looking for Hevy. Tinnies could use those extra parts for repair or reuse. A self-resurrecting army so to speak; but they'd have no use for a human body. Rex pushed himself from the stone and loped towards the remnants of the outpost. "No use for a dead body," he muttered softly, "and only limited use for a live one."

If your brother wasn't there, you moved on. Moreover, they'd have to report to General Skywalker that someone – very likely the Separatists – had returned to the moon and picked up the pieces.

"Check the computer terminals. See if they've been accessed." Rex ordered. "Someone has come by and removed a few souvenirs, including Hevy's remains. Make sure they weren't able to retrieve any information or find out what they did remove."

Commander Cody was giving his own orders. "Check the armory, make sure there's nothing useful. Check for any attempts at unauthorized entry."

"Yes, sir." Echo and Fives each moved to a task with Cody and Rex to back them up. Echo quickly checked computer consoles with Rex glancing over his shoulder. Fives and Cody loped towards the armory.

*

Fives tossed his helmet onto his bunk. "Nothing," He said angrily. "There isn't enough of Hevy to …." He stopped, at a loss for words and scowled. Fives leaned against the wall and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just some bloody smears."

"That doesn't make sense," said Echo as he glanced up. "LT blows up and out. It sublimates and it's the fumes that burn. It only exploded because it was enclosed in the plunk droid. It doesn't burn hot enough to disintegrate things. Not droid metal. Not armor." He reached towards one of his manuals but was sure of the facts. "Not flesh."

"That's what the Captain said. But at the moment it's all wipe up from Kamino and chasing bad guys so they're assuming Hevy's body was eaten by one of the eels or removed by the droids when they came and got their part-ners." He dragged out the last word to make a pun which was ignored. Fives sat heavily on his bunk and began removing his armor from his hands and arms. "That doesn't sit well with the Commander or Captain. Even the Jedis don't like it but can't think of anything else." He turned slightly, giving his back to Echo, who absently detached the backplate for him. Fives took it and placed it with his lames and vambraces then removed the breastplate. Relieved of the upper half of his armor, he stretched his shoulders and arms to loosen his cramped muscles then lay back with his head against the wall. He'd been lucky to be assigned the corner bunk, usually the privilege of a more senior trooper.

Echo thumbed through several pages of his manual. "You need your armor resized… hey, what's this?" He peered at the manual, slowly turning to the next page then flipped back, his lips moving as though he were reading. "Fives, hand me your bucket." Echo reached out a hand to take the helmet which Fives handed him. "You were searching the epicenter of the blast weren't you? Where Hevy had to have been?"

"Yeah. He had to detonate manually. If he'd fixed the remote, Hevy would have been out of there and down with us watching the fireworks." Fives closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds, his breath soft and even.

Cross-legged on his new bunk, Echo tinkered with the controls in Fives' helmet, going back to just a few days ago. Before Rishi – now that had taken the shine off their armor. He yawned, as exhausted as Fives, but his mind wouldn't let him sleep. Echo watched what Fives' helmet had recorded as they had searched for Hevy's remains. It had been uploaded into the main computer and was available on the main vids, if anyone wanted to see them, but Rishi Outpost was a dead issue now.

Its importance had been to observe for an attack and it had served that purpose. Echo preferred the helmet view since there was none of the slight distortion evident in moving from the curved inner screen to a flat holovid screen. There was no interference from someone wanting to watch a bolo game. On a 24-hour ship, someone was always watching the common room vid.

He watched the playback, seeing with new eyes what Fives had seen as they searched Rishi. Echo had taken the outer rooms of the outpost, marking O'Niner and finding Cutup. Commander Cody had been there, but the station had been theirs and he had let them search in their way and fashion, pointing out only those things he had from experience. Captain Rex had even taken perimeter guard duty, usually reserved for the rawest shiny. Echo paused again at that kindness then returned to his task.

The monitors in Fives helmet clicked on to their search. Echo saw the pit of the blast center, floors, mottled black where tibanna had spilled and burned on the floor, dark scorched in other areas. Among the scorching were elongated outlines. He zoomed back, the helmet extrapolating the data as if he were 3 meters above the blast epicenter, and gasped. "Up and out," he whispered to himself then smiled.

"Fives!"

"What?" muttered Fives, instantly awake and not happy about it.

"Hevy didn't die in the blast."

*

Rex looked at Echo and Fives. He hadn't been happy to be woken but he had, apparently, more rest then either of them. In exhaustion their traits had reversed. The normally verbal Fives was standing quietly while Echo spoke and waved his hands to the helmet.

"See, sir? It's like a circular target." He gestured at the screen where he'd sent the vid to his captain. "The pit – that's the blast epicenter. It isn't that deep because tibanna's burns as a gas. It blows up. Directionally up and then out." Echo pointed to emphasize the direction then waved his arms in a circle as if to illustration the explosion's actions. "Less downward force." Echo stopped the vid at a point where Fives had been looking at the walls of the burnt-out shell and pointed. A black band about chest high was evident. "You can see here." Again he pointed, "And here where the major portion of the blast hit the walls." He touched a slightly lighter spot on the screen. "Here's the outline of one of the OOMs – too skinny for a clone."

Echo glanced into Rex's face who nodded as he saw the curved outline of a B1 droid head. "And here," he touched the controls and the view spun slightly, "here's a super. Obviously not Hevy." Echo touched the controls and the image slowly circled. "No blast shadow for a clone on the blast going out. And as for up," He paused.

Rex spoke for him. "We'll assume Hevy wasn't sitting on the plunks."

"Even if he had been, we would have found more traces of him where we found pieces of the plunk – the blast perimeter." Echo slowed as he spoke of Hevy, then his voice picked up animation again. "But look here." Again, Echo manipulated the image. "This is extrapolated from the images. I've added some light to the extrapolation. We were searching at night and the helmet lights wouldn't be sufficient." The view seemed to be above the blast site, about ceiling high, and daylight rather than the moving circles of light from helmets. From that image Rex could see what had caused Echo's excitement. In the center of the target was the shallow blast pit circled by scorch marks circled, in turn, by the blackness of burn that crept up the wall to the ceiling and had destroyed the droids. A clone size, clone shaped area on the floor next to the pit was untouched and it was in the scorched area rather than the burnt blackness.

"I've done the calculations, Captain. And had one of the engineer droids check my numbers. This area," Echo's finger rested on the scorched circle. "Wouldn't have gotten any hotter than the tolerances of his armor. Hevy could have survived, sir. Captain." His voluble stream of words flagged.

Rex looked at Fives and the trooper straightened. "He's doing all the talking. Why are you here."

"To catch him when he falls, sir. And to make sure he didn't bring his manuals or calculations."

"Ah," murmured Rex. "Good man. Return to your quarters and get some sleep gentlemen. That is an order. Bring me the calculations later." He gestured them out as he touched the vid screen. The two clones moved from the Captain's quarters as Rex leaned over the screen. He brought up the duty schedule and checked for Echo and Fives’s next duty. Echo was to report in two hours and Rex shifted it back, substituting another trooper. Fives was coming onto a break, no change needed there. Rex sent a message to General Skywalker – not a wake-up call as the clones had done to him – about the new evidence and then he went into Hevy's file and changed the KIA to MIA and set it aside. 

He wasn't pleased about this. Echo and Fives had been too tired to think beyond Hevy's survival but it would come to them. If Hevy had survived, then it was very likely that he had been picked up by Separatist forces on the rebound from Kamino. If that was the case, then it would probably have been better if Hevy had died quickly in the explosion.


	2. Waking

Hevy had a headache that wouldn't quit and some clicking noise didn't help. He wanted to snap at Echo to stop it. It had to be Echo because he always tapped his fingers or a stylus against the table when he read, but Hevy couldn't speak. Only a soft release from his lungs let him know that he had tried. He felt weightless and couldn't feel anything – neither temperature nor texture. He tried to rub his finger and thumb together and couldn't tell whether or not he had succeeded. A thought came slowly to mind. He shouldn't be blind. Another thought came and he remembered pressing the detonator, the noise that rushed over his helmet and shoulders like a panicked living creature, the light that seemed to swallow him. Maybe he was blind. He could feel numbness of painkiller and the deep internal  _ wrongness _ that told him he had internal injuries.

Another thought came and he was pleased with himself - three coherent thoughts in a row. But the last thought only confused him more. It shouldn't hurt to be dead. Softly, both headache and consciousness faded.

Hevy woke again. His mind was still awash in a haze of not-thoughts. Again there was nothing to anchor him physically, neither numbness nor pain. He started sorting things he did know, running backward in his memory. He was dead – no, he wasn't sure of that anymore – but he should be dead, had given himself up for dead and that he knew. He'd felt the heat and pressure of the explosion when he had pressed the detonator, seen that blue incandescence of the liquid tibanna before his helmet cut in with the dampers. Where had that been? Rishi Outpost – right. Why had he set the explosion? Yes, the droids had taken the station. Why hadn't he used the remote? Why? His mind slipped into blackness.

When Hevy woke a third time, he decided that he had to be alive and had survived the blast on Rishi Outpost. He hoped he had been brought to Kamino. He had to be in a bacta tank. There were none on Rishi or anywhere else within 1000 parsecs. A thought flitted through his mind that he was a prisoner, but he set it aside, not wanting to think of that. Maybe he was on one of the Republic's star destroyers. Since the sensory deprivation of stasis healing was its own kind of torture, normal procedure was to knock out the patient. Something must have gone wrong. Mentally he laughed at that thought – he'd been in an explosion. There probably wasn't much else that could go wrong after that. 

It was going to be a hell of a wait. Hevy might as well do something useful.

Hevy started at the beginning with childish things. The beginning was Aurebesh. In his mind he recited the alphabet and visualized each individual letter, hearing them vocalized by the teaching droid. He moved on to numbers, the  _ Resol'nare _ , military codes and command structures. Names of clones he'd trained with, names of trainers. 

He made sure to pick the images out of memory, it would have been too easy for his mind to fool him and, as it was, difficulty was his only proof that it was memory. He remembered songs and stories of  _ Mandalor _ . He remembered receiving his armor – who'd been beside him, CT-6835, behind him – that would have been Echo. His armor shined in the well-lit chamber of Kamino, stark white. He tried on his helmet, tested the HUD and returned it to the Kaminoan technician for a minor adjustment to the audio-controls. What had she said? Something about hearing? Something? His memory caught it. "We have misjudged the frequencies. All of the clones have hearing more accurate than we planned for." Hevy faded with her voice.

Hevy was awake now, not slipping in and out of consciousness. He slept when it felt right and remembered while he was awake. No one came to recertify him for duty. So he walked through his memory. He practiced what they'd been taught on Kamino – from sparring to marching regulations. He tried to engage his muscles as his mind remembered moves. He couldn't feel them and didn't know if they moved, but it felt exhausting. He'd fall asleep then – sometimes remembering the feel of his bunk around him.

Now he was in the armory. The Z-6 always felt good in his hands, pressed against his ribs for stability against the recoil. He saved it for last, planning on moving into armored ground vehicles next. Hevy dismantled the big blaster, setting the barrels aside for cleaning and the energy pack for recharging. Carefully, he removed the coolant core from the central shaft. Already he was remembering the last time he'd actually done this in person – there'd been a blemish on the finish of top barrel, a sliver of metal that had caught at his fingers as he rubbed the metal, warm from recent practice. 

He stopped for a moment to check his memory. When had he actually last cleaned the Z-6? Rishi Outpost, two nights before the attack. What else had he done that night? That wasn't hard. All they'd ever done on Rishi was monitor and clean and monitor and talk and monitor. He pushed back at his memory. There had to be something different about that night than all the other nights he'd spent there. Two nights before the attack there was monitoring. He pictured it carefully. Memory not imagination, he told himself and felt satisfied as he remembered the song that Echo had recited and a joke about nerf herders he had told Fives. Rude, of course. All nerf herder jokes were rude. 

Satisfied this was memory, Hevy let his mind go back to the Z-6 and he flicked open the lock holding the metal belts to release the roller and cams. His fingers blurred and he recognized that he was cheating – letting imagination take over. There was a tendency to do that with the weaponry, with things that he didn't have to think about outside the bactatank. He slowed down, letting his muscles remember the heft of the blaster, letting his skin remember the cool, smooth hardness of metal, the uneven plateaus of the cam. Using his mind to remember - not to play tricks. Hevy slowed his fingers from the unconscious speed with which he actually disassembled the big weapon.

"Why are your fingers twitching?" It was a soft voice, almost a whisper, sliding through his mind.

Hevy was shocked into mental stillness. The remembered blaster vanished from his mind. It was still dark and weightless and touchless, but he wasn't alone. He'd never been in a bacta tank before but there was a procedure to follow. First gradual lights, gurgling noises as the bacta fluid was slowly cycled out of the tank. Not this blackness and a human voice. But then, they hadn't knocked him out either.

The voice was higher-pitched, young. But there shouldn't be any cadets on board a capital ship. Not this close to enemy lines. If they actually were close to enemy lines. Hevy gave a mental laugh as he realized he didn't know where he was. A soft, low noise came from nearby and Hevy realized it was his – more a grunt than a chuckle, more a moan than an actual verbalization. Suddenly he felt tired, weak. His back itched and tingled.

"I'm detaching the painkillers. That voice he recognized. "If you need them let me know. You should be able to talk into the breather mask.

"CT-26-," he whispered, "0782, Trooper. Rishi Outpost." Hevy wasn't ready for this. It had been one of his first ten coherent thoughts though he had tried to be optimistic. No room for that anymore. 

He had to assume he'd been captured. He had to assume he was on his own. He had to assume that Separatist forces had kept him alive for a purpose, that they'd break him and wring from him every bit of information he'd ever known. He had to assume that waking up was simply going to introduce him to an even worse day than getting blown up had been. He wasn't ready for the inevitability.

"Do you need painkillers?"

"CT-26-0782." His voice hurt and he could feel, finally, tears in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a lot of fun writing about Hevy although he isn't cooperating with me. He doesn't want to go through what I've ultimately got planned for him and we are discussing this. He's quite a stubborn character but since he is an imaginary person, I suspect I'll win. However, this means that I've hit a bit of a road block while we try to come up with a compromise. I suspect Chapter 3 will be ready by next Friday. I've tried to put in paragraph indentations and apologize for any spelling errors (mine) or canon errors (Hevy's not admitting responsibility for those so they must be mine as well). Wookieepedia is a great help.
> 
> All critiques are warmly welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 -**

"Foolish clone." The woman's voice snarled then abruptly turned away from him. "Remove him from the tank. Do not let him near anything that may be construed as a weapon."

"Roger, roger,” came a droid voice.

"What can't be construed as a weapon,” questioned the second.

"Clothing." She answered them, whipping around so fast both droids stepped backward, one droid teetered before catching itself on a counter. "And have him escorted at all times."

"Roger, roger."

"Roger, roger," repeated the other.

Hevy saw the soft lights of the bacta tank flicker on and it caught his breath to know he wasn't blind. Why they hadn't - then he realized - droids didn't need light. He glanced down the corridor the lean, tall woman had taken. Asajj Ventress – he had recognized that voice even before he’d seen the figure. He sighed to himself. Maybe she could see in the dark. Echo would have known – always reading manuals. Maybe seeing in the dark was one of the Jedi secrets.

Vague figures moved outside the tank, lit by the dim lights. He squinted to bring them into better focus. Two gold toned B1 battle droids were watching the liquid flow from the tank, one was swaying its head back and forth, as though listening to a song. Neither had a blaster.

The burbling fluid drained and Hevy's fingers went to his mouth, but they were too weak to grip the breather. "How long was I in?" He asked himself in a soft voice of wonder, but one of the droids answered for him as it pulled the mechanism off his head. Hevy winced at the sting. His body felt muffled as though it had forgotten it was attached to a brain but pain receptors remembered their function.

"Too long, Republic scum."

"Roger, roger," affirmed the other, though Hevy couldn't tell if he was agreeing with the too long or the Republic scum part. He tried to ball one hand into a tight fist. Loosely curled fingers was all he got.

"Why so long?" he asked, confused. Bacta tank treatment was usually for a week. Or less. He felt dismally weak and needed the robotic hands to keep him from collapsing. His legs, too, seemed to have forgotten their purpose.

"Quiet, scum."

"Hey, he asked me," said the second droid.

"No, he didn't," replied the first. It turned toward Hevy. "Because we forgot you were here?" It was definitely a question and Hevy noted that. Then, as an afterthought. "Republic scum."

Hevy wondered what circumstances had put him here on a CIS ship with Asajj Ventress. He spoke again, almost in his normal tone, his lung quickly remembering the purpose of air, though he had the feeling they might forget if he didn't concentrate on breathing. 

“What happened?” Information was its own kind of weapon.

"You were found on Rishi Outpost after the attack on …"

"Don't tell him that. That's divulging secrets to an enemy agent," argued the second droid.

Heart in his throat, Hevy stilled. Had they attacked Kamino? He'd sacrificed himself for nothing? He pushed the thought aside. Soldiers followed orders, not judge the effects.

"Glorious Separatists forces were beaten back by the Republic scum clones and Jedi."

"It was General Grievous's fault. He retreated."

"No, it wasn't," argue the other. "It was a strategic withdrawal."

The first one turned back to him, as it tried to fold the front of his body shirt onto his arms. 

"That goes over the head." Hevy mumbled and regretted it almost immediately as the droid attempted to pull it over his head, chest panel first. It smelt of smoke and burn and the slight sting of tibanna. His own bodysuit then, and not cleaned.

"Leave it. I'll do it." He told the droid.

"I think that would be a good." it replied. "Republic scum."

"We aren't used to clothing humans." The other said, then thought a moment. "Republic dog."

"Ventress?" he asked, wondering if Republic dog was a step up from Republic scum. Breathing was starting to feel almost normal. He picked up the shirt. Only because it was a soft material that caught on his fingers was he able to keep it in his hands, his fingers still rebelling against his brain.

The one droid waved it's arms, crossing them in front of its body. "Strictly forbidden."

The other leaned to whisper into Hevy's ear but didn't adjust its volume and Hevy grimaced. "Some kind of nudity taboo, I guess." It leaned back and reflected on Hevy. "You aren't too bad for a Republic scum."

Hevy signed as it took all his strength to pull the bodysuit shirt over his head. He didn't have the strength to straighten it on his frame and was glad the material was stretchy. As it was, the top was loose and he knew he'd lost body weight and muscle mass. He looked at the droid. Back to Republic scum. "Why's that?"

"You don't have a blaster," stated the other. They both nodded.

They were better with the bottom half of his bodysuit which was a relief since Hevy was sure he couldn't have managed by himself. He saw his armor on a short counter and reflected on the black bubbling racing down the back and reaching around some of the plates. He hugged his elbows, touched his shoulders – the joints in his armor – and was thankful the bodysuit hadn't melted. A slight grin reached his face – his 'shiny' now had battle scars he'd be proud to wear. He reached for his helmet, shocked at the damage the outer layer had taken.

"Hey, you can't have that." The droid moved between Hevy and the counter.

"It's part of my clothing." He told it.

"Ha ha, Republic dog."

"Good joke," said the other. "Republic scum."

It had been worth a try. Anything was worth a try.

He remembered the child, that tone of innocent curiosity.

"Who is the child?" he asked, remember that soft voice. In the dimness lit only by the lights of the bacta tank he could see the two droids look at each other.

"What child?" asked one.

The other droid spoke at the same time. "There is no child."

Republic scum." They said together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I lost an argument with a fiction character – and an animated one at that! This was originally to be focused on Captain Rex – well, that ain't gonna happen anymore. Sorry to all the Rex fans. Hevy simply snorted and rolled his eyes with a murmured, "They'd rather hear my story."
> 
> All constructive criticism welcome by the writer. Hevy would prefer simple accolades


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next installment of "What Happened After Rishi" – I really have to come up with more exciting titles – and I hope you enjoy it. Come back for the next installment when Hevy and Asajj actually meet.
> 
> Critics warmly welcome.

Asajj Ventress breathed in deeply, paused, then slowly exhaled, releasing her rage and anger with the breath. She had failed. Again. Unlike Grievous she did not blame others or lash out at others. This had been her own fault. She had not been strong enough to prevail against the two Jedi.

Again her master, Count Dooku would give her that sorrowful look, as though it was only this single failure which stood in her way as his padawan. It was an act, of course. Ventress knew that. He balanced her with Grievous. He would give nothing without his own master's approbation and approval.

The candle in front of her flickered at her anger. Her attention focused on the candle seeing its destructive beauty, the fire that burned within all fire and she calmed. The flame lowered, relax. A small droplet of wax teetered on the edge then slid down the side to begin a small pool of wax.

This clone in her ship would be a welcome respite from the Count's sorrowful anger or Grievous' uncontrolled obsession of wanton destruction. It was a fact and she acknowledged it. It was uncomfortable to know she was sometimes lonely but the truth had a certain clean clarity, a bright edge that cut away the dross of confusion and self-delusion.

She breathed, reached out her focus to the clone even now being released from the bacta tank. Cold exhaustion enveloped her to her very core, the numbness of a body slowly shutting down for death. She touched him. There was some minor kidney damage, easily correctable – so she did. No other damage. No permanent damage. He wouldn't be hungry, those urges had passed weeks ago. Lightly she stroked his circulation system toward these centers. An appetite would make it easier for him to accept food, easier for his body to cope with something it had almost forgotten. It would make him less wary of her. Gently she urged sluggish blood in its pathways of his circulation. She caught debilitating cramps forming in his extremities and pushed blood there also, soothing them away, warming them, balancing potassium and sodium within his cells until she was satisfied that she had done what she could to assist in his re-awakening.

Not to be kind, she told herself. Merely expedient.

She exhaled, checked her own body and stretched her arms up then out – feeling the Force, feeling her heart beat – bringing her arms down to her lap. She returned her attention to the clone. 

He'd been burned. The back of his entire body had blistered red and then blackened from just under the back rim of his helmet to his toes, but burnt skin was still skin and the bacta tank had taken care of that. She probed deeper sensing the body memory of blaster wounds in shoulder, back and leg. Minor, compare to the burn, and already healed. Only his helmet had saved his head, his face. Falling forward had saved his lungs and that, in extension, had saved his life.

Gently now, with precision, she touched on his memory. Immediately his mind shielded itself. Not as a Force sensitive but as any human mind would instinctively close at a foreign touch. But before it closed, she caught a glimpse.

Images of a failed detonator, of plunk droids, of commando droids, of an outpost interior. Voices. "You'll call me Captain or sir." "Officers coming for inspection". Sounds – the explosion and accompanying feel of liquid in his ears. Blue light flaring into red then giving way to blackness as his helmet compensated or the macula of his retinas burned, blistering, cracking to blindness. Then silence broken by isolated sobs. Heat giving way to coolness then to cold. A small weak moan. Then nothing.

It had been easy to piece together what had happened. Between the droids gathering usable parts on the Rishi moon and Grievous' anger at the destruction of the outpost, a child would have known what happened. The Republic fleet had moved to face Grievous near Rishi and she had to attack Kamino swiftly as a diversionary tactic for his escape. Quickly the fleet moved toward Kamino to protect it. So no one was at Rishi when she arrived there hours after the explosion. It was a good plan and she knew they would put it into effect again.

She slowly wove the Force away from him into herself.

Why keep him? She smiled. Because of the dream that wasn't a dream.

The threads of the Force made up the fabric of this dream and she had meditated often since she had it. Sometimes the images became sharper, clearer as she tried to trace the individualities – of an event or a person. Sometimes she received only an impression or a whisper in her mind as she probed further. The first time she had the dream she had woken from sleep with the sound of blasters still reverberating in her mind. The predominately white armor of the clones slashed with various battalion colors still flashed before her eyes. The bitter taste of dirt, dust and mud from a hundred different planets coated the roof of her mouth. Her fingers shook from perceptions from the Force and from her own excitement. The GAR was killing the Jedi.

It took only moments to verify that it hadn’t happened. She had meditated long afterward. When Ky had trained her the Force had seemed clearer – purer like a mountain river. Now it was like a murky, muddy pond. The Force granted few visions of the future but this had been one.

Asajj reached out her mind and touched the clone again. He was sitting as the droids dressed him. Her mind turned to other matters.

There was another one – Count Dooku's master. Hidden from her view, undoubtedly from the Jedi Council as well. She had seen his hologram face cloaked, had felt his touch occasionally when his attention was on her. The first time he had looked at her, she had hoped it would be to make her his padawan. His laughter at her insolence desire still made her burn when she thought of it. He was power unimaginable. She could and did feel his dissatisfaction with Count Dooku. So she waited.

She wasn't sure if he – the touch strongly suggested both male and human – had instigated the dream or was even aware of it. She didn't try to hide it but tucked it in her mind of barely-remembered things. Unimportant things that rarely come to the forefront of her mind unless she consciously brought them forward to inspect. She was playing dangerous games.

Her mind returned to the clone. He was young, of course. Knowledgeable in many things, experienced in few. He was proud of his strength. He worked hard to develop muscle to his genetic potential, more so than most clones. He was dedicated to lifting weights, practicing with the heavier weapons in the armory, pursuing punishing games. He was bodyproud as were all the clones – but more so than most.

Such an arrogant, brash, young clone.

Softly she extinguished the candle and rose to her feet. She draped a long robe around herself. It was night on Rattatak and, by extension, her ship.

She had a guest to entertain. It would be rude of her to make him wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hevy simply waved, he's a bit distracted because he is finally going to meet a girl – like, face to face. Hey, so what she's a CIS commander, dark acolyte of the Force and all-round bad person.


	5. Chapter 5

Ventress watched him as he walked into the galley, the droid an obedient escort. He wasn't steady on his feet. Two months in a bacta tank with no nourishment would do that, but the weakness would wear off quickly. He was gaunt for a clone but there was reason enough for that. No one should have survived two months in a bacta tank – it was for healing, not stasis. But he'd been tough, resilient as were all clones. Dark hair, untrimmed after two months was shaggy on his head and a dark beard on his face shadowed his features. She touched him again with the Force to confirm her earlier impressions and received an immense rush of exhaustion. She probed a little deeper.

She’d known clones before, most on a superficial level. Like light bugs - a momentary twinkling spark then gone. Though even the sparks had been individual. Different emotions, different regrets as they died. But there had been three. An ARC, a captain, and one sergeant remained in her memories. They were individuals she would remember until her death. 

Yes, her new prisoner was very different from the other ones she would remember. Younger, brasher, ready to take on the world, trusting in his own strength. And yet... 

She sensed a pained weakness that was only partially the remnants of his wounds. He had taken on the world and lost. He had been scared beyond bravado and he had given himself up for his brothers. Was there a weakness here she could exploit? She probed a bit deeper. No, not here. He had been tempered, not broken, by the fires of Rishi.

The sergeant she remembered had known the Jedi as corrupt order, had already come to the conclusion the Jedi were wicked and selfish masters on his own. He had not sought out Ventress, but had agreed when she had sensed his hatred and approached him with plans. This one wouldn't.

"You are slaves to the Jedi, you know." She purred huskily. Daintily she picked through a small bowl of berries for the most perfect one.

He stared at the table where there was fresh fruit, strips of steak, and other delicacies. "Right now I'm a slave to my hunger." 

She hid her small smile. He was young and his wants and needs were young.

"Will you tell me what I want to know?" A general question but she watched his body, seeing what it would tell her. The information of his body first and then maybe, only maybe, the information from his words. Because words were lies.

He sighed heavily and sat, just as heavily, on the chair, so obviously proud to have made it down the hall on his own. He didn't reach for anything. "No." He stared into her eyes, his dark brows furrowed, his arms folded over themselves on the table as he leaned forward. Confrontation.

"I could torture you." Using the Force, she pushed a fist size melon in his direction. He flinched. Fear.

"Won't work." The melon sat untouched in front of him and he brushed his forehead with two hard fingers. "Programming and such. We're hard to interrogate." He looked at her blue eyes. "I've told you too much already. I think I'll just go back to CT-26-0782 ." He slumped backwards and crossed his arms over his chest for a moment but was too weak to hold the defiant posture. His arms slid into his lap. For a moment, he closed his eyes. Tired. She read nothing beyond fatigue.

"With the Force, there are ways." She tucked a berry into her lips as he opened his eyes. For a moment he seemed mesmerized by her movement.  _ How odd _ . She thought, and then continued. "Hard doesn't mean impossible."

"I don't want to find out." He stared at the melon in front of him. Truth, as plain as possible.

"Wise of you. Your brother was voluntarily more forthcoming. Older. Wiser." She picked up another berry. "More experienced." She smiled. That could mean so many things. He watched her fingers, but looked down at the melon in front of him as she put this berry into her lips and bit into with sharp white teeth. "He approached me." Not quite a lie – he would have approached her, if she hadn't found him first.

His brows knotted. "My brother was a traitor." She could see that had hurt – and he knew of a brother's treason only through some paper report or unconfirmed rumor, only as the barest fact. She wondered if that bit of treason had hurt all of the clones so much. How it might have affected the traitor’s nearest brothers, the clones he had worked with on a daily basis. That was something to find out. Already this clone was providing ideas. Information.

"Still, you must consider it." Absently, she used The Force to bring the berries closer to her.

"Don't do that." She realized he was referring to her use of the Force, not her threat of torture. "Please." Her eyebrows flared up knowing it wasn't a word he used.

"And if I don't listen to you?" she baited.

"I'll ask harder." He clenched his jaw then dropped his head, ashamed of his weakness, defeat in his posture. Both of them knew he didn't have the strength to ask harder.

Ventress was silent, waiting until he looked up. She did not want to break him — not yet — not like this.

She picked up the small melon with her hand and held it out to him. Hesitantly he reached for it then held it to his face. He closed his eyes and breathed in its fragrance. Pleasure welled up from deep inside him and Ventress found even that reveling in the senses revealing. It was something he didn’t do often. No, something he didn’t have the opportunity to do often.

"It smells good – ripe. I've tasted one of these." He opened his mouth to say something and then shut it.

She smiled wryly, catching the drift of his thoughts. "I was on Kamino for several weeks. I know that fresh melon is a rarity." She paused and leaned back in her seat, "I was not expecting a guest. These are my own favorites." She gestured lightly, her elegant fingers taking in the table. "You must eat and field rations are not appropriate after a stint in the bacta tank. Remember to begin lightly, but this will be available to you at any time."

_ She had done this for him? _

The thought was so surprising the it came through both his body and the Force. Her action had surprised him. He couldn't remember when anyone had done something differently for his benefit alone. 

_ So very interesting _ , she thought. She rose and started to leave.

"Thank you." He spoke sincerely. It was a soft and simple.

It had been so long since anyone had expressed any appreciation to her that she was speechless for an instant.

”You’re welcome.”


	6. Chapter 6

Hevy grunted as he pushed against the floor with his arms, then lowered himself, tucked his head and rolled out of the inverted push up. He'd learned the first time he tried this in the cell that he couldn't stretch his full length without hitting the cot and so curled his legs under him to end in a cross-legged sitting position in front of his bunk. He took several deep breathes, in the noise, out the mouth, as he sat, thinking.

"Hey, One," he called, and the droid appeared. It's real 'name', if one could call it that, was GN461. The other was IT479, but Hevy called it Two. He had pretended that he was just a poor dumb clone who could only count to two. Hevy smirked. He must have convinced them. They'd tried to teach him to count to three.

_ One was diligent in its efforts, "One is one. Then comes two, that's two ones. Next comes three, it's one and one and one." _

_ Hevy held up four fingers. The droid gently poked one of them down. "You've almost got it, Republic Scum." _

_ Two shook his head. "No wonder you clones never give up." _

_ Hevy'd looked at him in pretended innocence. "Of course. It's always an even battle. Two against two." _

"Are you hungry again, Republic Dog?" called One with a plaintive whine.

"Yeah. Get your blaster for escort duty. I'm ready to go to the galley."

He stood, stretched out his arms, and brushed walls on both sides of the small cell by merely leaning each way. It was as much a workout as he could get in the small room. Hevy never thought he'd want to go for one of the 35-click training runs, but now he longed to be able to stretch out his legs and simply go.

According to ship's light it was morning. According to his internal clock, which he suspected was badly off time, it was closer to early evening. He had determined that her ship ran on a different schedule than Kamino or Republic.

"And I feel like a walk today." Hevy pulled on his shirt. It was getting threadbare from all it had gone through.

"Oh, no." replied the droid as it released the doorway. Taking a walk required both droids and a lot of keeping him away from certain areas. Hevy knew the B1s though humans seemed pathetically stupid, unable to remember that they'd told him yesterday he couldn't go in there. 

"Where's Two?"

One tilted his head. "The mistress said to tell you he's visiting his mother."

Hevy smiled. "There's nothing like filial obedience in a droid."

So, Ventress was paying attention. The droids were reporting his actions to her, though he made sure they didn't have much to report. She must be bored of their reporting his daily consumption of her foodstuffs and his exercise. Hevy knew she would keep track of her prisoner. He would. But he had hoped she'd be sloppy.

One was quieter than usual, possibly confused by family relationship of human species, as they walked to the galley and it took its position by the door.

"Come on in One." Hevy invited. "I'll fix you a nice... well, whatever."

"Oh, no," said One. "The mistress said that the next droid to walk into the galley had better be prepared to dine on droid poppers."

"She didn't say that." Hevy looked at One with curiosity. He'd used that phrase two days ago.

"Not exactly, but that's what she meant. I was translating it for you, Republic Scum."

"What did she say?"

"That she'd invite us to her workout."

Hevy nodded. That did sound more like her. One stayed by the entryway.

Hevy was pulling out some nuna eggs when he heard the whispery sound of footsteps. It was her and Hevy wanted conversation. Not simply because he was bored of One and Two. Hopefully it would lead to information.

He grabbed a couple of extra eggs, the pan from the wall, and utensils. Hevy didn't really like cooking, but he did like eating good food and, living among his brothers, that meant learning to cook. 

She was silent as he cooked the eggs, pulled out juice and poured her some in one of the glasses from the upper cabinet. She ate silently, watching him as he moved around the galley humming some innocuous tune. He sat across from her eating his own breakfast then picked up and put the dirty dishes in the cleaner.

Hevy sat down and watched her with a smile, waiting for her to initiate the conversation. He decided he liked the color of her eyes. They were so different from the brown eyes of his brothers that had surrounded him for his entire life.

"What do you want, CT-26-0782?"

"How blunt," he remarked. "No introduction to the subject? No 'good morning prisoner, we aren't going to torture you today'?" He leaned back in a seemingly relaxed position.

Ventress gave a tight, curl of her lip.

"Good morning, prisoner. I haven't decided if I'm going to torture you today or not. We really should move you out of the tool closet; I have wrenches, pliers and droid parts crowding the hallway. Breakfast was surprisingly good." A fleeting smile crossed his face and she reacted to that honest expression. "Thank you. And what do you want?"

"Freedom?" He knew the answer.

"Alas. No."

He appeared to give it thought then gave her a cocky twist of his lips. "My armor, a couple of blasters and two clicks head start?" He leaned back, his arm reaching up and playing with the texture of the wall behind him.

"Out here, that would be parsecs head start and you'd have to ask for a flyer as well."

"If you're offering…" He leaned forward on the table, an upturned palm in the air.

"But, again. Alas. No." She could tell he was in a fairly good mood, optimistic about something but nothing tangible. Her mouth quirked, it was only the optimism of youth, health, and a good night's sleep.

"You have so much I want that I can keep this up all day, and I'm sure that you have evil plans to conceive and treachery to perpetrate somewhere." He looked her in the eyes and gave her a grin. "You must be a very busy Seppie."

"Very true, CT-26-0782. War doesn't wage itself." She purred in that whispery harsh voice of hers. "I propose a trade." His eyes narrowed and he considered.

"What are you offering?"

"I work out on the hanger deck. There is plenty of room, even some equipment. You'd still be escorted, of course but you can have occasional access to it."

Hevy considered. "I don't think so. You'd want me to promise to try not to escape or some piece of information that could be used against my brothers."

"That is a quandary." She considered, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Please stand."

Slowly, he did. He was wearing his bodysuit as usual. Although he kept it as clean as he could, there was still the faint scent of tibanna in the fibers.

"You're filling out. Gaining muscle tone." She nodded. "I suspect you'll be trying to escape soon."

Hevy said nothing, his face expressionless and his body still. He suspected that told her what she wanted to know. Still, it wasn’t unexpected. He was a prisoner and it was his duty to escape.

She relaxed slightly, glancing to the dishes. "Breakfast each morning and your name," she proposed. "As easily as CT-26-0782 flows across the tongue I have a feeling that is not what you call yourself."

He considered it and nodded. "Hevy. You can call me Hevy."

She smiled, stood and turned.

"And you?" His voice came.

"You seem to know who I am."

"I think I'll call you Asajj." She turned, and saw the small smile of his lips. The rest of his face was bland. "It's a beautiful name."

She left the small galley without saying a word, her eyes blazing silver.

Hevy had the oddest feeling that he had won this encounter.


	7. Chapter 7

Ventress went to confront Hevy in the hanger deck she often used for a gym. On her ship, outside of the small sanctuary of a cell she permitted him, this would be where he felt most comfortable. It would be a place where his body would not try to lie to her.  
  
He was doing katas, those beautiful, deadly dances against imaginary opponents.  
  
Hevy had spent his time between the galley and her makeshift gym and had gained back much of his muscle. Sharp delineations over his body showed the muscles and sinew under his smooth skin. His hair short and his beard shaved, courtesy of One and Two at his request. There were tattoos on each side of his cheeks that curled around his jaw to the back of his neck. She could see the sinuous lines continued down, tracing the hollows on either side of his spine.  
  
She recognized the kata and waited as he came to one of the more difficult moves. He performed it perfectly - a leap, a kick, the opposite arm coming around as momentum turned his body. His fingers curled open to complete the move, letting his muscles take the landing. He was beautifully balanced and his moves had a graceful strength that she appreciated.  
  
She unfastened her kama and let it fall to the floor then stepped beside him, matching him move for move.  
  
"Do you know the kai-echan kata?" she asked, breathing deeply as they finished.  
  
He paused then nodded. His breathing told her he was warmed up and wanted more work. His hesitation told her he was cautious, thinking this some kind of trap. She smiled to herself. He had good instincts.  
  
"Not well, though. You'll have to cue me in on some of the moves."  
  
She moved to face him. "It is much like the kata you just did with minor changes of punches for kicks and facing or backed with your opponent-partner instead of alone." He nodded.  
  
Hevy followed her lead. Only once did he falter, and she remindedhim of the move. They finished and she turned to him.  
  
She wanted this. Martial arts was echani, echani was communication. Communication was understanding.  
  
"Another kata? Or would you prefer to spar?  
  
Hevy's mouth curled into a smirk. "Right. Spar Asajj Ventress. Seppie commander." He turned his back to her as he rubbed the sweat from his face. "Use a droid."   
  
Her spine stiffened in anger.  
  
"Droids cannot match me in practice." She released the anger with a breath. There was nothing to gain with it and so much to be gained without.  
  
"I'm not much of a challenge against the Force and your light sabers. Give me my blaster and armor and I'll think about it."  
  
She ignored the challenge. So childish, really. "There is practice without the Force. Without light saber or any other weapons." Softly she stretched the muscles in her back, warming up. His body told her he wanted to spar.  
  
"Nothing except the weapon of the physical body," she continued. "Echani." She glanced to see if he understood the term and underlying context and realized he understood only its most basic meaning. Echani for him, as so many others, was solely and nothing more than a physical martial art.  
  
She continued on. "In many ways it is ritualized, some moves required a certain countermove but it is also one of the purest forms of martial arts because the countermoves are the most effective response. Echani is mastering movement, understanding your opponent through battle."  
  
His dark eyebrows raised. He had caught, so he thought, the reason she wanted to spar with him.  
  
"Combat is more than light sabers and the Force. I would use neither in sparring with you." She smiled. "  
  
"Thanks." Sarcasm laced his words. "You've held back Jedi generals before and now you'll fight me with one hand behind your back. Woohhh, I feel so lucky."  
  
Childish, she thought and anger flared again in her mind. She brushed it back and spoke. "It's not as unfair as you make it seem. You have skill, you have practice and you have imagination." She appraised him with her eyes, and he flushed at the intensity of that gaze. "And strength. I think I will win first, but will consider you the victor if you can touch me in our first battle."  
  
"I don't think so." Again, his voice was sarcastic and angry, but this time he watched her with a knowing look, checking for weakness, how she stood, the length of her reach.  
  
Her eyes narrowed and anger finally spoke. "Then I will batter you until you come to your senses and fight back or I find the limits of a clone's resilience."  
  
He laughed once, a cruel sound without humor, as he raised his hand in mock surrender. "OK, I'll fight."  
  
She touched him with the Force to see he had wanted this. He may not know Echani, but at some deep level of being he knew that fighting her would tell him more about her than anything else.  
  
She won their first match and Hevy told himself it was because he was still weak from the bacta tank.  
  
But he knew he lied.


	8. Chapter 8

Asajj observed the clone in her galley.

He was scrambling some eggs, sprinkling herbs and chopped meat into it. He didn't have a wide repertoire of recipes but had been right about his cooking. It was simple but good. He was freshly showered, his short hair damp and, surprisingly, no shirt. He was still thin after so long in a bacta tank, his body eating itself to survive, but there was muscle there now and his trousers didn't threaten to fall to his knees. He moved like a warrior, like a sleek animal. He moved like her.

Calling her Asajj had been a stroke of brilliance on his part and she wondered if he knew it. No one had called her that since Ky had died. She had been unbalanced by it, unable to meditate for several days without remembering the past.

He set the plate in front of her along with some cut fruit and raised one eyebrow at her assessment.

"You're going all out this morning." She tilted her head, looking at him with the hint of a smile and her crystal eyes gleaming.

"I missed you yesterday when you went to General Grievous' vessel and thought you might be extra hungry." He sat his own plate on the table and slid into the seat.

"I see that One and Two have been gossiping again." She lifted a piece of fruit to her lips and watched him. He always dropped his head when she put fruit in her mouth. She knew why, even if he didn't - not consciously.

He gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes then dropped his head to take a bite, chewing a mouthful of egg. He swallowed. "Constantly."

They finished breakfast in a companionable silence. An observer would have thought they were the kind of friends that didn't need to speak to enjoy each other's company. Asajj finished, sighed, and reached for the glass of juice.

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt this morning?" Her fingers gestured at him.

He shook his head and made a 'come here' motion with his index finger. "Information."

It was his little game, something to keep what remained of his pride. For every question she asked, no matter how trivial, he demanded some piece of information. Usually she gave him only how she felt that day or that the eggs were not nuna but some other species. She knew what he had wanted since he'd gotten out of the tank. His guesses weren't far off and it was difficult to keep it from him. Further it was less important the longer he was there.

"It has been three months and fourteen days since Rishi Station was destroyed." She added more, a small gift. "The attack on Kamino was… delayed."

"To when." He stood, taking his dishes toward the cleaner.

She smiled and shook her head. He always pushed for more. "To later, of course."

He laughed, pleased with the information and that he'd been so close. "The shirt tore. Between the explosion and wearing it every day, it just fell apart." He grinned at her with white predator teeth and took her plate. "Unlike me, it only took so much."

Asajj leaned back in her seat, her glass in hand. "I believe I can find you suitable clothing. But I must admit," she took a final sip of the juice. "I find you physically appealing half dressed."

He blushed and dropped his plate then caught it before it hit the deck.

"Do you find that surprising?" He'd been genuinely surprised that she found him attractive. Asajj let his emotions flow over her; he was getting so easy to… not read necessarily, but to find. He let her have his emotions, offered them to her, even.

Hevy thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head. "Not really. Only that you'd admit it." He thought a second longer. "You're probably saying that to put me off my guard."

"Very true. I don't find you the least bit attractive." He laughed at that, too body-proud to believe it.

She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, fingers interlaced. "What would you say to unnerve me?"

He smiled. "You'll find out – when I want to unnerve you." He took her glass with his and put them in the cleaner then set it on.

_Hevy looked at her, sitting at the table, relaxed. Not unprepared, no he'd never make that mistake, but simply … relaxed. Hevy smiled as he finished putting the dishes into the cleaner. He enjoyed her company._

_Was that wrong?_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV ping-pong

Information was its own weapon. Asajj welcomed him to her gym with an acknowledging nod.

Looking around, Hevy liked the auxiliary hangar and gave it his mental approval. There were no flyers here, only a fully outfitted gym. There were benches, hot showers, adjustable grav-weights, mats, even a null-ball court with the hand-size ball floating aimlessly within the containment field. The gym was a familiar place to Hevy but he'd never see one so luxurious.

As usual, One and Two waited at the entry. He picked out a clean towel and tossed it to one of the benches. She found him workout clothes, worn into soft comfort and he occasionally wondered who had made them comfortable.

Today, Asajj was on the mat, already warming up with a kata. For a moment he watched. Her movements were smooth, swift and precise; she was a master martial artist in Echani.

 _Today,_ he thought to himself. _I'll beat you today._ She was a master in a martial art. He had been trained from birth to be a master warrior. He pulled off the shirt and placed it next to the towel.

There wasn't much to do in his cell other than small movement exercises and he reveled in coming to the roomy gym, he reveled in pushing his body as much as he could. He didn't quite enjoy losing to her but he did appreciate the challenge she presented. He joined her on the mat, beginning his own warm-up.

"It's a beautiful ship, Asajj. Powerful." Again he saw that tiny shiver, the microscopic flinch, a swift look of pain on her face glossed over with her habitual expression of boredom. He hadn't noticed it at first, but now he saw it whenever he used her name. At first he wanted to call her Asajj because everyone else called her Ventress and he wanted to be different. Now he called her that because it brought the strange reaction

She glanced at him, acknowledging his statement, then continued her kata.

"I can feel the vibrations when we go into hyperspace. But it isn't military, not with accommodations like this gym." Hevy ran his fingers over the covering of the mat, organic, soft in texture yet durable. Not like the artificial covering Kamino or the Rishi gym.

"A donation from a wealthy patron of the CIS retrofitted for battle." Asajj finished the kata, took a deep breath then began another. So seamless that if Hevy hadn't known that particular kata, he would have thought it merely a continuation.

"Asajj, how did I end up on your ship?"

Asajj Ventress shrugged, letting the movement flow down her body. "I was in the other tank after - an encounter." She also knew that information was a weapon. She could give him something here. It would ultimately work in her favor. "Grievous was extremely irate at Rishi's destruction and the delay it caused in the attack on Kamino." She bowed her head and lowered her eyes, looking out from the corner. It was a flirtatious gesture. They wouldn't have taught the clones courting on Kamino and there were essentially no human women to interact with them, yet he was human and the language was instinctive. He'd react, yet not understand. "You don't need to know beyond that."

His face brightened, pleased to think that he had forestalled Seperatist plans. It was followed by a sad look as he thought of fallen brothers. He was so simple to read, once she had stopped trying to find deeper currents, more intricate emotions and motivations.

He had several plans for escape, none flesh out, all possible until she had taken steps to make them ineffective.

Hevy straightened, flexed his arms and chest then turned his full body to her in male display. His look was of mild confusion, not understanding it was a fundamental human reflex. Asajj continued speaking, ignoring his reaction.

"The droids followed my orders and retrieved all combatants and parts. I did not realize that a clone was there and was not specific enough in my instructions to collect only droid parts. You were retrieved by them as damaged, but repairable. They put you in the second tank. They are used to my meditating while I am there, so they did not add sleeper to the bacta." She looked at him, muscular, stripped to the waist, barefooted, tattoo circling from his jaw down the back of his neck and snaking down the sides of his backbone. "I didn't realize that the tank was being used until I overheard One and Two discussing you. It was an error."

His eyes narrowed. "Then who is the child?"

"What?" She jerked in evident surprise and paused in the martial dance. "There is no child here." Her lips pursed tightly. "Other than youself and I, there has been no human on this ship since shortly after the war began."

"I swear I heard a child while I was in the tank." The corner of his lips turned up. "A curious child. It asked me why were my fingers twitching.

"No." But her face looked confused. "I saw your fingers twitch while I was in the tank." Her eyebrow raised archly. "But I am hardly an inquisitive cadet."

"A manifestation of your curiosity enhanced by your Force abilities? Reaching out in loneliness?"

She turned away from him, continuing the kata from where she'd halted. "Doubtful."

Hevy smiled to himself. It had been her. He had observed sufficiently to know she retreated in some way when she was confused. Then he paused. It was difficult to imagine that soft, inquisitive voice coming from the hardened fighter and Force user, from the CIS commander. He didn't know why that word 'loneliness' reached his tongue.

He rolled his head from side to back stretching the muscles of his neck and moved on to another question. "Why offer the painkiller?"

"A momentary weakness of mine. I don't hate clones except as an accessory to the Jedi."

"Teth." He replied bluntly, his face hard, as he turned away from her. He too, retreated in some way for strong emotions. As if they demonstrated his weakness. He returned facing her as she spoke.

"Conceded." Asajj had stilled in the middle of her kata and was staring at the mat as if she felt his pain for unknown brothers.

"I heard that an entire company went in and five walked out." His hands fisted, less in warming up than in rage.

"It was viciously done. I did let six walk out including a captain..." Her mouth working around words. She was having doubts, not knowing how to explain what had happened or if she should tell him. It was valuable information. She turned toward him, her eyes hard, watching his reaction. "A captain who violated a Force-based order."

Hevy's response was almost unnoticeable as if he wasn't surprised. "How many of his men had you already killed? How precise was the order?" He chewed at his lip as he inspected her. He'd given her too much but he wanted her to understand the depths of the captain's pain. Then he realized that she had given him something as well and nodded. An equal trade.

"On Kamino, a captain is raised with his company. Not given command of a company but raised with them with the expectation they are his. They had probably been his since they could walk."

"I knew that but had not considered the ramifications of what it meant." She was quiet for a moment. "But consider," she bent forward, touching her elbows to the floor. "Would the Jedi have sent troops if it hadn't been the child of the Hutt who controls a good portion of the trade routes? Would the Jedi have been interested if it had only been some average child of some average family with no power, no name, no money?"

Hevy thought for a moment. "But that's why you kidnapped the Huttlet. To get that reaction." He stretched. "You precipitated the whole thing because you saw the Huttlet as opportunity instead of a child. The Jedi were thinking of how you saw the Huttlet - what gambit you were trying." He looked at her expressionlessly. "You made the child a weapon. If you had taken some average child from some average family," He let his words fade as he thought of a family losing something so valuable. It hurt like losing Cutup and Droidbait and even Sergeant O'Niner. "That child would no longer be so average."

She liked that about him. He had said he'd tried to sleep though most of his later training discussions except heavy weapons drills, but his mind thought like a warrior. It might be raw, unformed and inexperienced, but the foundations were strong and stable. And if that were true for him then it was true for the others. A moment's plan, more information to be gained. She would have to study battles the clones had fought. How they battled both following the detested Jedi and on their own.

He continued, a little sheepishly. "At least that's what I would have thought."

"It is war." She stood. "There are victims. Troopers and children."

Hevy shook his arms to loosen them. "Nice to know you aren't getting soft in your old age." He retorted. He watched her, calculating possible weakness and admiring her form.

The Echani fought with almost nothing on and under her kama Asajj wore a shirt and some loose pants the same as he, but the clone had sparred in all conditions of weather, terrain, with and without armor. It was all one to him.

She bristled at his words, though he didn't know why until she muttered under her breath, "Old age. Come, youngster, we'll see about this 'old age'." She stood to her full height, a finger's width shorter than him and unclipped the long kama from around her hips, tossing it to the bench where he'd left his shirt and the towel.

She was whipcord thin, all muscle and sinew except for the curves of her breast and the gentle flare of her hips. Hevy looked away for a second as unknown and unbidden thoughts came to his head. He stood for a second, confused - something in him shouting that this was all wrong - when she whirled and the back of her fist caught him on the cheek.

Now this was familiar and he didn't have to think. He'd sparred with his brothers every day of his known life. He let the power of her blow take him sideways as he dropped the upper part of his body to the floor. His legs came up and he could feel his feet brush against her shoulder as she turned, following the force of her strike.

Not enough though, she was fast. He was on his feet again and brought the blade side of his hand towards the junction of neck and shoulder. A devastating blow, but she was a devastating opponent. Her right arm crossed in front of her to guide his striking arm around her as she dropped down and tried to sweep his feet off the floor with her leg. He pushed back, kicking her leg away with his stronger one. They'd both be bruised tomorrow.

His other hand, fisted tight, caught her in the back, just above the kidney as she spiraled and he heard her grunt of pain and uncontrolled acceleration forward. She adapted the momentum of the blow and rolled, kicking out and catching him in the leg, just a hair from his groin, then was on her feet again. He hit the floor rolling and came up, weight on his legs and fingers lightly touching the floor, facing her.

He moved in fast but she was faster and her right knuckles jabbed him in his side as he came up. That was what he'd been waiting for. Hevy's left arm came down fast and hard, tightening over hers.

Trap baited and sprung.

"Got'cha" he gasped as his right arm swept around her back then lowered, pinning her other arm to her side. Raw muscular strength was his advantage here - his only advantage. Her head butted him in the nose, breaking it. A black patina flared in his brain but passed quickly and he hadn't loosened his grip on her.

Her leg came out, snaked towards his and, for a moment, he evaded the sweep. Only for a moment, then he fell, heavily taking the blow of the floor on his side and swiftly rolled so Asajj was beneath him. She breathed hard with the exertion of trying to free herself from his arms but was unable to do so without referring to the Force and that was not Echani.

She lay there, under his muscular body, struggling until he tightened his grip substantially and her ribs ached. Any more pressure and they'd break. Blood ran from his nose onto her face and neck, warm and slick.

"Strength defeats speed," he said smiling as she ceased struggling, ceased attacking, ceased trying to escape and acknowledged her defeat.

"True enough. But what defeats strength?" She asked in her whisper-harsh voice. He held her in his arms.

He looked at her, sudden confusion unfurling in his mind, pain shooting from his nose and, to a lesser extent, his ribs. Strength had always been the clones' forte, his forte. He'd been strong, working on it, he had usually won against his brothers.

Asajj felt warm in his arms. Proper. Abruptly embarrassed for some odd reason, he released her and rolled to sit on the floor.

"Patience. Reach. Mobility. Knowledge. Toughness." He recited and she recognized it as some flash lesson. "Speed. Anything can be the key to victory." His hand went to his nose and he winced as he touched it.

She had risen gracefully from the floor and handed him his towel even as she wiped his blood off of her body with another. "And I excel in most of those."

"Only with the force." He growled lowly behind the towel.

Her rage bubbled to be released, but she held it back. "That was sparring practice. Echani. Not Force enhanced. Otherwise, I would have won."

"Show me," he scoffed, the towel held to his nose.

Her rage boiled over. Who was this made-man to laugh at her? She called her sabers from the bench. They were comfortable as they slapped into her calloused palms and she crossed them in front of herself as she faced him.

Hevy paled as she brought her face and those blades close to him. He'd never heard anyone say you could smell the blades! He'd brought this on himself, but she spoke evenly now, calmly, though rage flamed in her pale eyes.

"This is the first kata of the Niman, a form of Jar Kai. Double bladed fighting. _This_ is Force enhanced." She stepped back and Hevy could breathe again.

But not for long.

Asajj danced. Hevy's mouth dropped open at the magnificence of it. His eyes could barely see her movements for their swiftness, yet he could see her imaginary opponents by her moves, how she feinted here then countered a strike with both of her blades, turning again to catch the blades of an opponent. The blades dance with her, sizzling the air, sweeping lightning-fast, then slow as sunrise.

She was magnificent.

He was quiet while they ate. And she asked him why.

"I'd never seen the force in action. Not like that. I'd seen holovids of levitation, heard that a Jedi could get inside your head and could move faster than. .. Been told..." He broke off. "I didn't believe it. Not really. I thought ...," He couldn't find the words.

"Strength in some form was sufficient?" She asked knowing the answer.

"Yes."

"And now you must rethink your view of the world."

He nodded softly. "Yes."

Asajj gave him a gentle smile. He was breaking. As a master crystal cutter, she was breaking him where she wanted.


	10. Glimpses

**I**

Hevy sat cross-legged in his cell, thinking, being angry at himself. He enjoyed her company. He gave a small frown and asked himself the question he couldn’t answer. 

Was that wrong?

**II**

So, what was your childhood like."

"I was never a child," she spat

His brown eyes turned sad and he glanced at the table. "I can understand that."

Her expression changed, becoming softer, more sympathetic. She must have remembered. Clones didn't have a childhood either.

**III**

"Not that door," called Two as Hevy opened one of the prohibited doors.

"It's the mess, isn't it? Two doors down from my cell." He affirmed as his eyes took in the sight of equipment. He closed the door with a frown as One reached out to grab his arm.

"It's not the mess." Hevy put all the disappointment he could muster in his voice though he wanted to dance in joy. He held his hands so he could count for One. "My cell," he touched one of his outspread fingers and folded it into his fist. He held the remaining four fingers to One's ocular. "See, two."

One shook his head. "We'll work on math later, Republic Dog."

Hevy smiled, in an excellent mood. "Roger, roger."

**IV**

Hevy pondered through the night. He had plans but couldn't carry them out because of fear that she knew about them. 

Asajj was his first encounter with a Force sensitive and he had no idea about her abilities. If she could read his mind, he was dead. 

He was dead anyway, but he'd like to get some more things done.

He cast his mind over the sparring. She'd been angry at him, not realizing that his words concealed his own inadequacies and fears. Emotion, especially her own anger, blinded her - even to the Force.

Getting her angry that often though would lead her to the truth... or cause his death, neither of which were in his interest.

Emotions were the key though. 

Lust. It was in his mind before he consciously thought of it.

Hevy was surprised, scared even, at how easily he could imagine Asajj in his arms.

**V**

"Where's Asajj?" he asked One casually.

"Speaking with Count Dooku," answered One.

"He's not very happy," chimed in Two.

One looked back at his partner. "He's never happy."

_ Gossips _ . Hevy decided, free to think. She was busy and Dooku required all her attention. He knew that much.

All B1 battle droids loved gossip. Often all he had to do was get them started and he learned things. Not always useful knowledge, but certainly entertaining.

Sometimes they provided useful information though not often. Most of his valid information came from piecing together their gossip with information he pieced out himself or discovered himself.

He knew the location of the armory in the ship and had found a storeroom of unused parts – oh, that had been valuable and he had confirmed it with the trick of only counting to two. He'd been there the last time Asajj was off the ship on some assignment for the CIS. It hadn't been hard, getting out of his closet-turned-cell.

The problem was keeping the droids gossiping on some topic rather than scattered. And not letting them know how terribly interested he was in all they talked about.

"I'm not hungry. I think I'll just take a nap." Hevy yawned widely.

"Ok , Republic Dog." replied Two.

One walked down the hallway, followed by Two. "We'll collect you later." He raised his three-fingered arm in a sort of optimistic wave. "If you can count to three tomorrow, Republic Scum, perhaps we can go to four." Hevy heard his words to Two as they turned the corner. "Do you think all humans are so dumb or is it only clones?"

Hevy lay on his side, facing the wall. He pulled the blanket over his shoulder and smiled as he programmed the small transmitter under the cover.

The hardest part of being imprisoned was not thinking of plans when he was with Asajj.

**VI**

Hevy pulled his punch.

Her favorite forms were the swirling, circular motions of Echani. He didn't have any favorite form, basing his usage on efficiency, on whatever worked in a given circumstance.

They had been sparring and he had moved from matching her graceful circling motions of Echani into the linear forms of Wrruushi with deadly swiftness. Even as he was rotating his trunk, his left arm circling, deflecting her blow, his right hand had not moved into the customary wrist hold that followed in classic Echani, but had balled into a fist and shot into her face.

Hevy was angry at himself, suspecting he'd told her much more about clones with that punch than she'd known before, more than he had ever intended letting her know. Not only the fighting skills of the clones but the speed at which they could change. They were not locked into one form or another even as they fought. 

Physical strength was not his only forte. He hadn’t mentioned toughness or durability or perseverance or flexibility. The flexibility that could win wars. Clones had no inhibitions in fighting and would move into street fighting as easily as they used the more classical styles, both on an individual as well as group basis. Fight was both reaction and action. The clones were trained in various aspects of combat and war, but fighting was life. There were no inhibitions in fighting.

He had pulled back at the last instant; his emotions pride, confusion and then a tiny flame of concern.

Her face had reflected that child-like lost look for only an instant as she felt his emotions. Then she'd known, realized what that strike had told her.

Hevy was angry with himself that he'd also broken her nose.

**VII**

Hevy escaped the next day. She and the droids found him in the room with the two bacta tanks, looking over his armor, his helmet in his hands. He was sitting cross-legged on the counter and barely looked up at their intrusion.

He held up his back plate for her inspection and nodded. "With these scars on my armor, I'd be the envy of half the GAR." Then he looked at her, remembered how he envisioned her right before falling asleep the previous night. The lust came immediately. "I don't suppose you could let me go back for one day... just to show off my battle scars?" He smiled softly. "I promise I'd return." He would too, if he gave his promise. 

He imagined running his hands over her slender waist, kissing her mouth, possessing her in the most intimate way. Even though Hevy wasn't sure how that might be, his body knew. He was shocked at the response it provoked in himself. He saw her startled look, for a split instant, lost, like a child . . . he would have missed it if he hadn't been looking for it.

It just confirmed that she had been the source of that innocent, inquisitive voice when he’d been in bacta. 

Hevy pushed himself off the table, walked to face her, and raised his fingers toward her face. His fingers trembled but he would have touched her, would have caressed her cheek.

If she hadn't spun around and left the room, issuing orders to One and Two to return him to the cell.

His knees were shaky and he told himself it was just because he was sure the message had gone through.

He knew he lied to himself. Again. He always knew when he lied to himself.

One and Two flanked him as he headed back to his closet.

He wondered if Jedi lied to themselves. He looked down the hall where Asajj had angrily stalked off. Did Sith lie to themselves? Did Force sensitives? Did everyone?

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Echani and Wrruushi are both martial arts from Wookiepedia. Thank you, Wookiepedia.


	11. Hevy's Message

It had been a short radio burst. Weak, boosted by being tied into a stronger message, hijacking that transmission. Rex's mouth tightened into a small grin. It had been caught by the array of sensors on the  _ Resolute _ . The primary message had been a hologram of General Grievous ordering a secret listening post on Orto Plutonia in preparation for an attack. Beautifully valuable. They had an unknown friend on the other side.

Kenobi, Skywalker and Yularen were working with the resident slicer on how to get changed signals to the original destination and a faked return message to relay back to Grevious. They could really wreck some havoc on the CIS.

They hadn't decoded the hijacker message yet. It was too short, in an unknown code, and not considered as urgent as the Grievous message, but Rex had an inspiration. It had been sent to the Rishi sector. Unlike ship coordinates, sector coordinates never changed. Once you'd been stationed in a sector, you knew those coordinates for the rest of your life.

"Echo, Fives." He called on the ship's intercom. "Report to captain's quarters. Immediately."

Both men were there quickly. Fives in armor, bleary-eyed Echo in hastily pull-on fatigues the shirt inside out, the back of his hair flattened from sleep.

Rex called the message up from the bridge to his own computer.

"Watch." He told the men as he leaned against his desk, his arms folded over his chest. "It was transmitted to Rishi." They both glanced at him then with wary attention in their eyes then brought their attention to the console.

The holo flared into blue, General Grievous' image, his harsh guttural voice with their instructions and occasional bursts of static overlaying the image.

Fives glanced at Rex again, understanding the battle implications of both the maneuvers as well as the fact that they had the message.

Echo watched, his brows drawn in a frown, no longer sleepy eyed. "Play it again," he ordered Rex absently who complied with a raised eyebrow. Echo chewed at his thumbnail as he viewed it again then moved to the captain's seat. Both Rex's eyebrows rose at that, but Fives put two fingers on his captain's arm, halting him with a small, worried nod.

Echo muted the sound then adjusted the holovid. The adjustment didn't give Echo what he wanted and his face twisted in a frown. His fingers stroked the computer controls again. This time the audio was pulled out and separated from the holo. There was still static in the background. Echo made more adjustments and the static became pulsed noise, recognizable as being of sentient origin. Echo had a small smile on his face. "Gotcha, Hevy," he murmured quietly.

The holovid started up again, General Grievous in his quick moves, but it was a clone's voice coming from the CIS commander, the words in unison with his movements, the audio code overlaid by the visuals. The hijacker code in parallel with the message, only a fraction's difference in the frequency from audio to visual.

"Ventress Grievous. Attack Kamino. Orto Pluton-ya." That mimicked a long arm gesture in Grevious' movement. "Ryloth. Juma. More later. If can." They all caught the sorrow in his voice at those last words. Then another short burst of static, layered inside the coded message. Echo's fingers danced on the keyboard, now knowing what he was looking for.

The static followed an elaborate sweep of Grievous as he turned with a flare of his cape that carried Hevy's voice, pride evident in every note. "You should see my armor now."

Fives laughed, his eyes crinkling in humor. "That's Hevy all right."

Echo grinned as well then suddenly realized he was sitting in the captain's seat. Flushed, he quickly stood to attention. Rex grinned at him.

"If you can do that every time you sit there, you can have it." Captain Rex nodded his approval at Echo. Echo ducked his head, but not before both men saw the smile of pride.

Rex took his seat, gesturing them to sit as well. "Tell me what this message tells you."

Fives was first. "Hevy's alive. He's not dead. He's aboard Grievous' ship, possibly hiding."

"Or Ventress," added Echo.

"Or another vessel attached to them," said Rex. "But I could tell that for myself – now that it has been decoded. What does this message tell you that it  _ doesn't _ tell me."

They thought on that. Echo eyed Rex carefully. "He's scared."

"What makes you say that." Rex asked.

"He always used to..." Echo paused, then changed his sentence. Hevy was alive. "He says things like 'check out my armor' or 'I've got the big gun' when he's scared. It's probably true that he has great armor scars. But he wouldn't bring it up unless he was scared."

"Why would he be scared?" Rex tilted his head in query. He had his own opinions but these two men knew Hevy. They'd been brothers since the creche.

Echo looked at him as though he'd gone crazy. "He's a clone in Seppie space. Probably on a Seppie ship. Surrounded by droids."

Fives shook his head. "No, that wouldn't make Hevy scared. He wouldn't even think of it in that way, Echo and you know it." Fives grinned. "That's just a big adventure for Hevy."

Echo nodded in acknowledged agreement. "I have to admit you're right about that."

Fives smiled at Echo, turning it to a wicked grin at Rex. "He's with Ventress."

Rex listened. "What makes you think that?"

"Two things scare Hevy," began Fives as Echo started to nod. "Women and Force users. Like they scare most of us. For the same reasons, because we have no direct experience with them. Ventress is both, Grievous, neither. Echo and I would be nervous or anxious in those conditions. You remember when we first worked with Skywalker? But we settled quickly because we had good examples. We had you and Coric to show us, the commander to guide us." He frowned and glanced at Echo. "I don't know how to explain the rest."

Echo took over. "Hevy doesn't have any guidance but Hevy was good with that. We follow. Fives and I might one day be good squad leaders with experience. Hevy would make a good one right out of Kamino. He liked - likes being in control, knowing what to do, when to do it. Even when he doesn't  _ know _ , he has good plans, good instincts." Echo bit his lower lip. "Hevy has a plan."

Echo and Fives glanced at each other then turned to their captain. There was sorrow on their faces. "And it’s not escape."


	12. Glimpses II

**I**

Asajj sat, cross-legged in mediation.

She did not  _ like _ this clone.

Asajj told herself this often.

She'd been lonely. She'd been seeking approval in someone's eyes – Dooku never gave it to her. She enjoyed sparring with an imaginative opponent, someone her equal in so many ways. She wanted conversation rather than orders given or orders received. She wished for the flirtation of male and female, even imagined the warm comfort of skin against skin. She had so many excuses.

But she did  _ not _ like Hevy.

Sometimes, she wondered why she told herself this so often and so adamantly.

**II**

She had studied the battle records, watching the clones. They were precise. They knew battle and made very few errors in executing their objectives. In retrospect she could see the errors lay most often with the Jedi generals either unused to marshaling forces en masse or too unwieldy with so sharp and exacting a weapon as the clones. She would have liked to discuss battle strategy and tactics with Hevy, but, of course, she couldn't do that.

_ Why not? _ asked a portion of her mind.

Asajj found an old dejarik table and introduced him to the moves of the game. She found a deck of cards and they played sabacc. It had been a long time since she had played either game.

His tactics were sound. His strategy changed and evolved, becoming more complex and subtle as they played.

Moreover, he knew what she was seeing in him but this was also a trade of sorts. Absently she wondered who would know more when their own private battle ended. Who would win?

She sneered at the tenor of her thoughts. He was just a clone. A trooper of no consequence who should have died on his first assignment.

He would lose.

**III**

Asajj meditated more frequently now. The vision of the clones firing on their Jedi masters was clearer. She could make out details at times, clarity within the confusion. She knew Kenobi didn't die and that brought unexpected relief though she didn't understand why. General Unduli died on Kashyyyk, Secura on Felucia; both killed by clones. The Mirialan who was so proud of her skills died with her light saber still sheathed. Windu, died in the chancellor's office and Count Dooku at the hands of General Skywalker, the Jedi's so-precious 'Chosen One'.

Young Skywalker – surprisingly he died too, at the hands of a Sith in black. That Sith was too broad in the shoulders to be herself, not tall enough to be Dooku and too young to be Dooku's master. She wondered who was the new choice of Dooku's master. It didn't surprise her that it wasn't she.

Skywalker's pet, she could not see. She hated the little brat, hated that she had gone to the temple. Ky had promised that she would go to the Temple and learn more than what he could teach her, but she had never gone.

Jealousy Asajj acknowledged freely. She knew one day she might be able to let go of the hate.

**IV**

Every time Hevy saw her he smiled though not always with his lips.

Asajj had felt that feeling before, but not often.

She'd felt something very similar from Ky Narec as a child when he'd been her master. Sometimes she felt it mixed with bewilderment from the Jedi Obi Wan. She never felt it in Dooku. He regarded her as no more than a tool.

In Hevy the emotion was complexity itself and meshed with a host of other feelings that she teased apart – fear, fortitude, regret, determination, lust. Definitely, lust, but overlaid with another, unknown but familiar feeling. Simply a small spark of warmth.

The closest feeling she'd felt was recent, and from another clone. The captain on Teth. Captain Rex, she knew now. Asajj had taken the time to find out his name after what had happened. She had his throat in her hand, his life beating beneath her fingertips. She had demanded his capitulation to entrap Skywalker and his brat. The clone had been full of hate and anger at her, at what she had done to  _ his _ men more than the risk of his personal life. Beneath his despair, had been a feeling much like she felt from Hevy. A feeling like a flaming sun and sublimely luminous. The captain's feelings had been for his men and burned through his rage of what she did to him.

Hevy's feelings were for her.

She snorted disbelief during her meditation. There was no such thing as love.

**V**

Hevy had plans. Asajj could feel the void he cultivated in his mind. Beyond that, she could feel only his lust.

She refused to acknowledge any other feeling. His respect for her fighting skill, his empathy for her childhood, his delight in cooking her breakfast, his pleasure at playing dejarik and sabacc. It was all lust.

It was hard to convince herself of the lie.

**VI**

"What do you know of what happened on Christophsis?" Asajj asked Hevy as they played dejarik.

He shrugged, moving his m'onnok into a forward position to recover from her forked attack leading with the ng'ok and molator. "CIS forces were beaten back."

"What happened to the munitions?" She knew what had happened but was it common knowledge through the GAR?

"A CIS infiltrator set off explosives at the munitions housing. Only the heavy cannons were saved and not even all of those." Hevy smiled at her. "I think I'll win this game."

"I think not." Asajj glanced down at the board and moved her attack. His forces were separated, her fork penetrating through his defenses. "It wasn't an infiltrator. It was a traitor."

Hevy's head jerked up and he glared at her. She gazed back with a flirtatious tilt to her face. "An infiltrator?" She mocked him softly, her voice smooth as a lover's caress. "Into a  _ clone _ army?",

He stood, towering over her, his face dark with rage. "One," he commanded. "Take me back to my cell." He turned, military precise, and strode from the room.

"Roger, roger, Republic Dog," came the droid's sing-song voice.

Asajj glanced down at the dejarik board. His separated forces had surrounded her attack, converging on the weakened flanks. It was a winning position.

**VII**

"Where's the prisoner," Asajj asked one of the droids casually, her eyes glittering with anger.

"I don't know." One was not perceptive, even among droids. Asajj growled and One took two steps back.

"We do not know, mistress," provided Two, more than an arm's striking distance away from her, forgetting that distance wasn't a deterrent to the Force user.

"Find him," she snarled and heard their affirmations of 'roger, roger'.

Hevy was taunting her. He couldn't escape her ship but he took great delight in escaping from his holding cell daily. Usually he ended up with the bacta tanks contemplating his armor. Asajj had inspected it the first time he had escaped. She destroyed the electronics. Just in case. She thought about destroying his armor, but that would break him too much. She wanted him to remain a weapon. A weapon under her control, a weapon against Dooku.

Dooku thought himself invincible. Asajj knew better. Neither the Sith nor the Jedi were invincible in this battle. Hevy would be her weapon and, through him, she would learn to control the other clones.

Hevy hadn't escaped the previous day and she had asked him why not.

"Oh, I escaped," he admitted. "But I got bored of the droids not being able to find me." He smiled softly at her and took another step in her direction. Again the flood of his lust rolled over her and that warm feeling in conjunction with it. "I was worried they had stopped looking and I wanted to be here when you got back." He reached to her face with his fingers but she took a step back and whirled away from him. As she had done the first time, as she had done every time he reached out to touch her.

Did he see her fear in that move? Did he notice the tenseness of her shoulders? Did he hear her breathing; sharp, quick and shallow?

Not for what was, but for what might have been. What might yet be?

She knew he did and she hated herself for giving him that much


	13. Sparring - All Out

Hevy grunted as Asajj caught him in the solar plexus with the heel of her foot. It could have been a killing blow and it usually put a man down. But even as Hevy fell to the ground, he caught hold of her ankle, twisted it as he curled in pain, and pulled her to the floor with him. They both landed, he on top of her, as best they could, but neither landed well. Hevy lay curled on his side, groaning and rasping for air, his arms clenching his chest while Asajj simply lay on her back under his muscular body watching non-existent stars circle the ceiling. Shortly their breathing evened.

"Do you want to get up," asked Hevy with a moan.

"No." Asajj answered. Simple and direct. As plainly honest as she could be.

"Good." He replied

"Why," breathed Asajj with a soft groan.

"Cause I'd have to prove myself a real tough clone and get up too." He moaned again as he rolled to one side to free her, his arms still clasped to his chest, and closed his eyes.  _ Just for a moment _ .  _ Just for a few moments _ .

He woke up still on the mat in the hangar deck where they practiced and cold with an ache deep in his chest that pounded with every heartbeat. Asajj was near him. She must also have been cold because she was curled on her side. Her ankle was blue and swollen. Hevy reached behind him with a soft groan, to where she had dropped her long kama. It flowed with the heaviness and luxury of something warm when she wore it and when he touched it, it was. He moved the short distance to where she was and pulled the kama over both of them. His feet stuck out but it was enough.

Escape crossed his mind for a moment, but he was too sore to care… and the droids were out there and they were in space and he couldn't operate a flyer and  _ kriff _ with the whole idea. Healing sleep came again.

When he woke a second time, Asajj was in his arms, the warmth of his body curled around her. He simply looked at her. She had skin that was pale dusky ivory, finer than anything he had ever seen, delicate eyelashes, her normally angry-sharp features softened in sleep.

Slowly he reached a finger out and touched, barely touched her face. She lay with her head on his arm and he reached down his face to… He wasn’t sure, but he felt her breath on his lips and it tingled. She murmured a word in her sleep with a soft, wispy breath.

Hevy smiled. That was the voice of the child he’d heard in the bacta tank. Then he recognized she’d spoken a name and it wasn’t his.

Disappointed, Hevy drew back his face. But she woke up, those delicate eyelashes rising like the clouds over the Kamino sea on a clearing day.

_ He is close enough to kiss, _ she thought, without thinking of who or what he was.

Without thinking of who she was, what she was in relation to Hevy, she brought her hand up to his face and placed it on his cheek. Soft fingers moved, tracking the firmness of his jaw line, the line of his tattoos and the gentle bow of his wide mouth. 

He smiled. "That's ticklish."

"Pleasantly?" Her voice was an inviting whisper.

Hevy nodded, a little flushed. He curled the arm under her shoulders slowly, bringing her closer while his other arm slid around her waist pulling her toward him – again slowly, watching her with questioning eyes, waiting for her reaction.

Hevy wondered where all the power and strength came from, she was so slender. He could span her waist with his hands. He bit at his lip in indecision then gently brought his lips to hers, the softest of touches, inhaling her breathing, tasting her skin, stroking her face with his.

"No." 

He froze, his arms slacking their hold and his face darkening in anger or embarrassment or some combination of both.

She curled her arms around his neck to draw him back in to her again. She brought one palm around to his soft, ticklish lips, and then stroked his cheek gently. "Yes to kisses." She kissed him. His eyes closed. "Yes to the breathing" and she softly breathed on his lips – deliriously pleasurable.

"No just to this. She stroked the stubble of his face with delicate fingertips. "They scratch." He rubbed his cheek then touched the skin of her cheek with his thumb and nodded once. His eyes wide, he brought his lips down again and she tilted her face up to meet him. He paused with barely a breath between them.

She felt the swift change of emotion; anger, rage, lust, want, hate, fear. His feelings ripped inside out.

He didn't kiss her, but pinned her down, dropping his forehead on her chin, his breathing ragged between his teeth.

"What have you done to me?" he whispered, his pupils tiny black pinpoints in his anger. He raised his head with hatred in his eyes.

She didn't move under him, as momentarily confused emotions eddied around him. In some automatic training, his fingers came to rest on the jugular veins on either side of her slender neck. His thumbs prepared to crush the cartilage of her throat. He could feel her life beating, a beat matched by the rapid river of his own blood. She felt him contemplate killing her. It shocked her to realize that he might be able to do so before she could react. In a smooth move he came to his feet and turned from her.

"What have you done to me?" he asked again, pain and rage in his voice. Before she could speak, to answer or deny he was out of the hangar dock, followed by his ubiquitous escorts. The cloak kept his warmth for a long time as she pondered what had happened


	14. Courtship Behavior

Hevy seethed with anger and lust and other emotions that he didn't quite have a focus on, that he couldn't name, that he'd never felt before. Both Two and One were escorting.

"Say," said One. "Wasn't that courtship behavior?"

Hevy growled, inarticulate.

"You make an engaging couple." commented Two.

"Much better than General Grievous," commented One. "He destroys droids like us."

"For fun," put in Two. "Besides, they don't like each other."

"Sure they do," argued One, who then looked at Hevy. "But I think she likes you more. You don’t have too many arms."

Hevy whirled around bringing both droids up short. "One more word," his finger in One's faceplate, "out of either of you and I will continue my courtship behavior by bringing her gifts." He moved his finger to Two. "Your heads."

They paused and looked at each other.

"Download file courtship." They said in unison. There was a moment's pause as the information was sent from the ship's computer to the individual droids. They continued to lead him to his cell but were quiet as the files were received. They pushed him in his small room and set the force locks.

"Oh-ohh," said One as he took a step back. "Gifts are appreciated." It quoted from some file. "The more dangerous in the procurement, the more valued…" It took another step back clutching the blaster a little closer.

"Ewww," said Two, obviously at a different point in the file download, as it tried to cover its optics with its droid fingers. "That is just so wrong."

Hevy shook with anger as he threw himself onto the small cot and faced the wall. Slowly he clenched his hands into hard fists.  _ Her life had been at his fingertips! _ Softly he pressed his fists against the wall and bowed his head to touch the cold metal of the bunk frame.  _ What has she done to me? _

He took a deep breath and answered himself. She hadn't done anything beyond being herself. He knew that. He'd been the cause of everything that had happened. He'd done it and deep in his heart he knew the truth of the matter. He had inculcated lust in himself to serve his purpose. It was a poor excuse that he was young. Lust served its own purpose and opened the opportunity for love.

Hevy bowed his head into his fists as they slowly unclenched and covered his face with his fingers. Low under his breath he began calling himself a litany of every Mando's curse he knew.  _ Fierfik, kriffing, mirosik _ …

He loved her.


	15. Breakfast

The next morning he was making breakfast as she came into the galley. He was wary, his emotions outwardly checked but seething inside. His body told her nothing but angry refusal. Still, she noted that he had carefully removed the stubble from his chin, cheek and throat. That told her more. Curiously, she wondered how far down Hevy had shaved.

That he was a clone had no relevance for her except inasmuch as it made him a soldier for the Republic. She pushed aside a thought that never made it to mental vocalization.  _ No weakness _ , she chided herself,  _ I want him broken to my will _ .

"Shall we spar again today?" She asked as she limped to pick up the cups and pour them both caf. Hevy moved aside to give her room. He gave her more room than usual and far more than necessary. He paused the barest moment before going to the table, both plates in hand. He sat and stared at the food on his plate.

He put his hand to his chest and winced. "I'm not sure I could manage another day like that."

She caught hidden undertones in his words. Regrets. Desires. Something more. He grinned at her, not in humor, his teeth bared like a predator, his eyes holding only challenge. "But I'm a tough clone."

Oh, she caught that challenge. Grievous or Dooku would beat the challenge out of him. They would destroy him for his insolence.

She ignored it. She wanted a functional tool, not a broken man.

She nodded and made her way to the table. "It was a difficult day." She stood next to him, her hand on his shoulder, and he gazed upward at her, for a moment like a dying man seeing salvation. Then his face hardened into something she'd seen every time she'd seen a clone on the battlefield without a helmet.

Asajj reached out and touched his lips softly with her fingers. He gasped softly but didn't move. His expression changed again. It was no longer that battle mask of a clone, simply Hevy's expressions. Her fingers caressed his cheeks. He closed his eyes but didn't move.

"But I very much liked parts of it." she whispered softly. He shivered, but still, he didn't move. She bent and touched her lips to his. His fingers crept up to stroke her throat softly and then both his hands cupped her face, kissing her back.

He was young, eager, inexperienced but he kissed her with a possessive fierceness that delighted her.

No. They wouldn't spar today.


	16. Chapter 16

**II**

His fingers trembled and Hevy tried to still them, but couldn't. He drew them over Asajj's lips – she had done the same to him and he found it exciting. Her lips were soft against his fingertips. She half-opened her lips at his touch as she watched him with eyes more the translucence of crystal than any real color. 

Although Hevy did like her eyes, he didn't like her watching him like that. Was she judging or conniving? So he cupped her face in his hands, sliding his fingers gently toward then over her eyes and she lazily closed them.

He ran his face over hers – he knew some animals did so to mark their mates. He hadn't thought it a human behavior nor did he think of her as his mate – only…

_ Only what? _ He asked himself

Some part of his mind rejoiced in kissing a woman, in touching her, in the promise of being intimate with her. Those things had been discouraged on Kamino where love and acceptance had been demonstrated with a joyful grin and a hand on the shoulder. 

But Hevy knew this wasn't love. This was war in some way. This was some battle they hadn't prepared him for in Kamino. He didn't know the weapons, the battle plan, overall strategy or tactics of this battle.

His strength wouldn't help him here. He had no experience – so that was no good either. He had only instinct and intelligence.

When he’d been younger, he had lain in his bunk countless nights, dreaming of touching a woman, of pleasuring her and pleasing himself. It had been a reward - both the dreams of a little knowledge gleaned here and there from things not said and the idea that there was a wider galaxy waiting for him. He had dreamed of countless women, bettydroids dreamed as flesh or pictures he'd seen or even some of his younger female trainers, women who had fallen at his feet in a swoon as he had caught them even while defeating the evil Seppie forces. In his dreams his reward would be a kiss and, most often, more.

This was a live woman, with her own wants, needs, and agenda matching the women in the dreams in no way.

Asajj did not love him. He knew that.

His blood sang, but his mind calculated and considered. Hevy remembered holovids he'd seen, trooper gossip he'd heard, his own inarticulate wants.

He wondered what was next – between kisses and… whatever followed.

She moved her face over his and breathed softly into his ear. It was like a hot current and Hevy froze as he drew in a breath and pressed his head against her. She exhaled again, a warm current that melded with his blood. He hadn't realized it felt like that! He'd never realized the ear was connected to his groin, but apparently it was in a direct line.

His hand slid down her throat and touched her vein where he felt her blood rushing; where his fingers yesterday had rested against her life.

Hevy smiled.  _ That _ was not a normal heartbeat. His smile widened into a cocky grin.

Asajj saw his grin and raised an eyebrow – a challenge.

Nipples, Hevy decided, were also directly attached to the groin.

None of this was real, he promised himself, but his body disagreed, feeling the rightness of her in his arms.

Powerless beyond all imagining, he lay skin to skin with her. Their breathing came in ragged spurts. Her arms were around him, her lips on his ear, soft kisses. Her fingers entwined in his hair, her legs around his body.

His arms held her close to him, closer even than his armor had ever been. Closer than the body glove beneath his armor. She was as close and comforting as the water that washed him after sparring.

He hated her.

Hevy looked at Asajj with bewildered eyes.  _ Could you hate someone you loved? _


	17. Sleep

Hevy lay back, physically sated for the moment, his amber-brown eyes watching her. Neither his lips nor his eyes smiled at her. Asajj couldn't identify all the emotions which circled around him, although rage was a component she recognized, and it appeared to be directed at himself. Despair was another emotion she recognized, matching a distant memory of her own when Ky had died, when her future shattered before her and she had to create another.

"You've done something to me." 

Her lips parted and she started to shake her head, to deny she'd done anything to his mind, but he reached up to her cheek, cupped it with his big palm and nodded softly. His eyes were bleak as he reached behind her head and stroked her shoulder even as he pulled her toward him – into his arms, against his chest. 

"Please, Asajj. Don't deny it. Don't lie to me. This cannot affect the war. It can't affect the information you've been gathering from me or the information I've gathered from you."

Asajj wasn't sure if he had spoken or merely thought it. But he was wrong. Yes, she had broken him, but he had brought lust into her equation.

Asajj wanted to give him what he wanted, to bring that smile to his face, to settle his despair into the peace he was seeking. It wasn't in her so she was silent to his plea, turned her face away from him and slept. Most mornings she woke with eyelashes damp from unshed tears.

It was only lust, she reminded herself. There was no such thing as love.

Hevy held her in his arms, stroking her skin softly. He no longer slept in the holding cell. He slept with her in her bed, in her room though One and Two mumbled as they guarded the doorway. She was asleep curled against his belly and he pulled her closer with his arms. It was all terribly comfortable to Hevy though he was determined not to believe her in any way.

She was an enemy commander, Count Dooku's dark acolyte. Perhaps it was better and more accurate to say she feigned sleep, to say she pretended to find pleasure in his arms. He knew she couldn't love him and he wasn’t experienced enough to be good at sex.

It frightened him, whatever this dark Jedi thing she had done was. He planned his escape but now details eluded him. He could destroy the droids. It would be easy enough given the lax way One and Two now guarded him. He and Asajj sparred each day in the docking bay. He knew the presence of the extra flyer, her backup. They slept together. It was paradise and he thanked whatever gods or angels or universal Force that had set him in her company. He could choose a moment like this to imprison her. Killing her seemed a distasteful option but if he needed to … could he? He imagined her dead; his fingers on her throat, her crystal eyes staring, her beating heart stilled. Hevy frowned. No, he couldn't do that. Not anymore.

She would be the most difficult obstacle to overcome. But there were other problems. Were there more droids? He had to assume so. What kind of security was on the fliers? How did one fly one anyway? He wasn't a pilot – just a ground-pounding heavy weapons guy with an interest in demolitions and making big explosions.

And Asajj – his finger stroked the skin of her hip – how much of this was real and how much was deceit. He tucked his head against the back of her shoulder and neck breathing in the heady perfume of her skin.

What had she done to him?

What mind control power had she used to make him feel this way?

How much of this was real?

He had begged her. He would draw a knife across his throat if she asked. But would he destroy his brothers for her? Would he turn against the Jedi? Against the Republic?

She'd broken him, in a subtle way. He knew that. He had to ….  _ What, _ he asked himself.  _ What can I do?  _ She turned toward him and he buried his face into her encircling arms.  _ Later, _ he thought.  _ I'll think about it later. _

He felt silent tears in his eyes; he refused to let them go.


	18. The Child is Father to the Man

Hevy hit the heavy punching bag.

He had broken. He wasn't who he had been.

The sound was a solid thunk that reverberated through his body. He twisted, bringing his other fist in for a hit. Another solid hit. He moved slowly, seeking perfection in form and the comforting, rhythmic sound of his fists against the material. Speed was messy in anger and Hevy needed perfection at the moment.

He had shattered, had died in her arms.

Yet he wasn't angry at her. Asajj had only done what she, as an enemy commander, was supposed to do. 

Again, his fist hit the twill of the bag; his arm extended in perfect balance with his body. His arm came back into position, prepared for the next blow. He extended his other arm, again in perfect precision.

He was angry at himself for thinking that he was a hero at Rishi. His sacrifice hadn't been in vain but was it needless? Should he have listened to the captain? Why couldn't they set it up to trigger remotely and who had checked the datapads last? He was angry at his brothers. They should have retrieved his body. They, not Asajj's droids. He was angry at the Kaminoans. Why had they cut the training short? Was there something in the training he had missed that could have kept him from being captured? Was there something that would have kept him from breaking?

But in the end, he was angry at himself because he had broken.

Being broken was only the beginning. Hevy knew that. She would twist him into something unrecognizable and there was only one way to prevent that. 

In his mind, he began as he had in the bacta tank after the explosion. Hevy began at the beginning, the first letters he'd been introduced to even before he could walk steadily.

_ Aurek _ . The mirror of the sky. As above, so below

_ Besh _ . The observing eye. As the heart, so the soul.

_ Cresh _ . Movement and stillness. As without, so within

_ Dorn _ . Balance. As the pain, so the sin.

He had to pick up the broken pieces of himself. To collect the ruins she had made of him and rebuild as letters made up words. He had to rebuild himself before she took advantage of this weak uncertainty.

Under his breath, Hevy repeated the Mando Resol'nare, a child's mnemonic for the six tenets of Mandalorian culture.

_ Ba'jur, beskar'gam, _

_ Ara'nov, aliit, _

_ Mando'a bal Mand'alor— _

_ An vencuyan mhi. _

_ Ba’jur - To raise a child for survival _

The Kaminoans hadn't truly approved of the Mando ways of Jango and his Cuy'val Dar, but Hevy was rebuilding himself and this time he would choose what was important.

_ Beskar'gam - Armor of iron _

Walon Vau's voice stung his mind. "Mandalorians wear armor. It is to protect our skin." He had laughed at the cadets of Domino and other squads as he passed them one day with his ARC-trainees to the live fire field. "As if skin is worth saving." His words had been harsh. "What is worth the armor? What does it protect?" None of the clones had answered him, not even the ARC-trainees.

The blackened, bubbled streak down the back of his armor haunted Hevy. He had lived. But why? What had his armor protected?

His options. 

Hevy decided it was as good an answer as any. 

Now he was forging armor of an iron will.

_ Ara’nov - Defense _

Defend, not attack. 

Could you defend before being attacked? Certainly, Hevy's familiarity with  _ Echani _ told him that. 

_ Aliit - Self and your family _

Family. Hevy paused, his face turned down and his arms still as he considered a child of his and Asajj. Then he shook his head and began, once again, the rhythmic pounding on the bag. Family was brothers, vode. There'd be no child for him, no child from the warrior-commander that was Asajj.

_ Mando'a bal - Speaking the language. _

"Why speak Mando'a beyond any other language?" Hevy could see the clues in that. It guided your thoughts. You couldn't think of something not in your lexicon or something so prevalent as to be unnoticeable. The language of Mando’a, with its emphasis on battle and balance, was more to Hevy's mind than Kaminoan economics and perfection. He'd already found he wasn't perfect.

_ Mand'alor - Raising your children to follow the Manda'lor and the the ways of of the Mandolarians _

Raising your children. There would be no children for Hevy. None for his brothers. But the child is the father of the man. Where had he heard that? Some Jedi on a vid? That sounded about right but Hevy liked the concept anyway. He was both the child with no guidance and the  _ alor _ to train the man he wished to become. The man he wished to become had to guide the child.

_ An vencuyan mhi - Contributing for the survival of all of us _

Clan. A multi-generation group of people. There was no enduring clan of clones. His brothers had their own culture, a mélange of Kaminoan economy, Mandalorian bravery and flash-drilled clone efficiency. But whatever 'clan' they consisted of would be dead in thirty years. They'd all be dead and then where would this culture go? Who would carry on clan ideas?

Why did it matter what he did? He'd be dead in time, Asajj would be dead, the war merely a mention in history. 

Hevy's fist stuttered on the bag.  _ What did it matter? _ He wiped the sweat from his face with his forearm.  _ What did it matter? _ He started the drill again, his fist punching the bag with physical perfection, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion.  _ Does it matter? _

_ Yes. It matters because you are alive. _

Heavy’s fists hit the bag. He followed himself. He was his own mand'alor calling himself to battle. For his battle he needed to teach himself, to armor himself. Hevy was the core from which he could rebuild himself, the child in search of himself.

He would rebuild himself. Because it  _ mattered _ . Not just for himself nor for his brothers.

For her as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'As above so below, as within so without' is a mystical hermetic principle. I played with it a little as well.
> 
> The Resol'nare is by Karen Traviss and I utilized Wookiepedia for much of the Mandalorian information. The rest I made up myself.
> 
> "The child is father to the man" – Williams Wordsworth


	19. Messages

Ventress watched Dooku's hologram fade with an angry frown. She disliked him more and more, his plans coming apart even as they were formulated by interference from the Jedi.

Count Dooku had ridiculed her plan to substitute counterfeit orders to several outlying Republic planets and their clone garrisons.

"The clones are nothing without their Jedi generals," he had declared with a sneer in his voice. Ventress didn't know if the sneer was at her plan or at the clones but neither deserved that derision. "The droid army will have those planets before long. Already Poggle the Lesser is preparing a new foundry, more droids and better equipment."

Ventress had bowed her head. "Yes, master." Some battles could not be won, only endured. 

She was learning much about the clones – how they acted, reacted. She had known previously of their training, their origins, even classified portions of their genomics but knowledge didn't give experience. With Hevy – with this individual – she was gaining insight into all clones. Their loyalty, not only to each other but to their ideals and their training, the fatalism they carried into battle, the now-ness with which they lived their short lives. Their regrets, their deep love for their brothers.

She understood better, now, Slick’s convoluted reasoning of saving his brothers through the destruction of the Jedi’s army and how Captain Rex had been able to alter her Force demand. They were no longer unnamed units of the GAR. Like Hevy, they were individuals… no matter that their gene codes were identical.

She'd had a dream. Several times now while asleep in Hevy's arms. She'd seen the white armored clones halt as they brought their blasters to ready and fire upon Jedi Master Mundi and, simultaneously on a world parsecs away, on Jedi General Secura. She saw different portions of what had eluded her before. She knew names of individual clones, names of the Jedi they would kill, the planets they were on. 

Worse, Ventress saw beyond then. She saw worlds brought under a blanket of white armor. It was a dream, but it wasn’t just a dream.

Already, more plans were forming in her mind, a way to use the clones against the Jedi. She understood what it would take for them to fire upon the Jedi and how that would destroy them. The Count's master was a powerful man indeed to control the clones. That meant he was highly placed within the Republic hierarchy of governance. This war was at his behest. He controlled the CIS through Count Dooku. The Republic through… who, she wondered as she slipped into her bed. Chancellor Palpatine? Alone, he was no more offensive than plain water, and would be no more effective once she discovered the Count's master.

Asajj curled deeper into the warmth of Hevy's arms as he pulled her closer to his chest, nuzzling the back of her neck. He was hers, she was sure of it. Streaks of fear, of anger, of resignation colored his Force presence. But the most enduring of his emotions was protectiveness and love. For his brothers, yes. But somehow she had slipped into that net.

* * *

Captain Rex blinked awake in the still darkness just as the red light flickered on the console and the alert gave a beep. It was an IADT. Immediate Action, Disregard Time. For an instant he regarded the blinking light then, with a sigh, set his thumb on the console to open the file.

Again it was a transmission of General Grievous, and Rex smiled in delight. Grievous' harsh voice coughed out instructions to his droid army and Rex was sure the Admiral already had that copied and was correlating it with maps and intelligence reports. There was that sparkle of static in the message. Obviously it hadn't been decoded which meant they were either permitting Echo and Fives the honor of being the first to hear Hevy's coded message – unlikely – or the message was scrambled to a different code than previously and the logical thing was to have a proven de-coder decode it.

Quickly he checked scheduling. Echo was cross-training in the clinic with Coric while Fives was on the flight deck for Gold Squadron's flyer check. At least both men were awake this time. Looking at his bunk, he sighed longingly as he sent a message for both men to report to his quarters immediately.

Echo and Fives were at his door before he had done much more than pull on some soft workout pants and a shirt. Their faces were bright with anticipation and Fives was bringing his breathing under control from a short, fast run from the flight deck.

"We believe we have another message from Hevy," he told them as they entered his room. Both men were in garrison fatigues rather than armor. Rex took them to the comm console where the frozen image of the droid general waited.

With a nod from Rex, Echo sat at the console, his fingers lightly tapping and brushing the controls. Whatever he did didn't work and for a while he stared into nothing, his brow wrinkled and a frown on his lips.

"Right day, Echo?" asked Fives. "You do remember our designations, don't you?"

" _ Di-kut _ , Of course, I remember our desigs. I've gone back…" He glanced at his captain for the Mando'a insult. Captain Rex merely raised an eyebrow. "Gone back three and two days." He looked up into Rex's face. "This is the second message that we've received from Hevy, isn't it?"

"As far as I know," Rex replied, realizing from Echo’s words that Hevy was using a progressive code for his messages. "But try as if it's the third." Echo's fingers were already moving.

"No good." He pushed himself from the console, glaring at it angrily as if it were personally responsible for the holovid’s inactivity.

Fives was about to say something, but Rex gave a small shake of his head.

"What is the code, Echo? What changes and what stays the same?" Rex stepped closer to the console, the holovid of Grievous paused, that enticing sparkle of static was like a small constellation of stars leaping from his clawed hand. He reached to touch the light sparkles - visual evidence of Hevy’s message.

Fives nodded. "Talk it through, Echo. We'll figure it out with you."

"Squad designations stay the same. Changes include the incoming frequency, which we know, the day of the Kaminoan month which we know or can find out easily enough, parallel chords of similar frequencies…" Echo waved his arms and began pacing the small round podium of the console.

"Echo," Fives said, the solemn tone of his voice halting his brother's steps. "Squad designations stay the same, but the squad doesn't. Who's code were you using?"

"Yours, Hevy knows Cutup and Droidbait are dead." Echo replied.

"Who would be next if you had all survived?" Rex asked, stepping away from the console to give room to Echo. “He doesn’t know that both of you are still alive. It’s not something he can count on.” Rex remembered Teth and bowed his head. “It hurts too much to forget your dead brothers and Hevy obviously doesn’t want to forget Domino.”

Echo was already back in the chair, his fingers swiftly touching the console plate. "Cutup."

Captain Rex turned to Fives who was protectively leaning over Echo.

"I've got you now, Hevy," muttered Echo. "Thanks, Captain."

Echo pulled out the image, found the static parallel note and brought it up. Again, Hevy's voice came in time with Grievous' movement.

"Grievous, Dooku," came Hevy's voice. There was a harder stress on Count Dooku's name then a pause, slightly longer than the gesture of Grievous that ended in a soft breath of "Ventress' before continuing harshly. "Malevolence reborn. Alorian. Dooku."

This time there was no message for Fives or Echo, no further code buried in static, only Hevy’s angered breathing for several seconds before it ended with the message.

"Malevolence," muttered Rex. "Ion cannon. And the biggest kriffing ship I ever saw. Its size alone makes it hard to take out, even disabled and without hyperdrive. Since Hevy names Dooku, Grievous, and Ventress, I think we can assume they are coming in a united attack." He glanced at Fives with his hand on Echo's shoulder then at Echo, once again with a triumphant smile on his face. This time it was laced with bitterness. He ran the message through again.

Fives tilted his head at Hevy's words. "He's not afraid of Force users anymore."

"Or women," declared Captain Rex as he finished writing the message on the flimsi for the Admiral and Skywalker. "Why Dooku's name twice, I wonder?"

"Hevy intends to take him down," declared Echo. "Perhaps he sees a weakness that we can't see. But, for whatever reason, he intends to take down Count Dooku."

"He doesn't intend to come back," said Fives. "It's a suicide mission. Like Rishi."

Captain Rex nodded his understanding as he looked at the holo, blue light frozen in the air. His voice was sad but firm, like Teth.

"Permission to take point, Hevy."


	20. Malevolence Reborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of POVs and head-hopping...
> 
> and it's longer than usual.
> 
> Try to keep up.

Hevy breathed out through his mouth then took a deep breath into his nostrils.

Asajj had been distant and preoccupied the past few ship's days, meditating often and prepping her starfighter. Though she'd tried to keep that information secret, Hevy had noticed the change of the scent of the hangar deck where they exercised. It no longer smelled of sweat and movement but of sweat and fuel. Fuel canisters against the wall had been changed, the movement sending out slight vapors.

Then he had felt the deep vibration of another ship against hers and she'd be gone most of the time, returning in moods of sharpness and repressed anger. Only Dooku frustrated her that much.

Hevy couldn't avoid the rumbling vibration through his feet or when he touched the wall of Asajj's comparatively little ship. Whatever ship she was hangared in or docked side-by-side with was enormous. He tried to time the vibration through touch and the waves in liquid to get an idea of the size but the pattern was too complex, with too many vectors. Huge. Beyond that, he didn't have the training to know.

When she returned their shared exercise was short but vigorously hard. She didn’t control herself as usual and he ended up bruised and contused. Their breakfast conversations were abrupt but at night there was a quiet desperation to her lovemaking as though she wanted to escape. 

That meant it was time.

He stretched, stood and moved to the door of his makeshift cell. "One, come here. I want to go practice."

"Sorry, Republic Dog, you know the rules. No practice unless the mistress is on-board." That droid actually sounded unhappy to deny Hevy exercise.

Hevy sat back on the small bunk. "Well, maybe you could teach me to count to seven."

"Four, the next number in the sequence is four." One was patient. After all he'd gotten Republic Dog reliably up to three. Most of the time.

One opened the cell door and stepped inside, his blaster at his side.

"You've been a good friend, One. I think I’ll miss you." The clone sounded different from his usual self and One scanned his face carefully. It wouldn't do for him to become ill. The mistress would not be happy and, as IT479 often said, a happy mistress ignores her droids.

There was an odd ripping sound. How odd that One's optical receptors saw only Republic Dog from below, how odd the focus was narrowing. One saw a headless droid slump to the floor, the blaster in the hands of the Republic Dog as he bent and took it from the headless droid. One tried to tilt his head to see what Republic Dog was doing but his focus was no longer under his control.

That was disturbing.

* * *

Hevy stroked his fingers over the burnt portion of his armor, like some scaled animal, then armored up. One stood guard at the doorway. Hevy had already taken care of reprogramming Two. It was a simple feedback loop of two or three simple tasks. He didn’t have the training for anything more complicated. He checked the hangar on the way to where the bacta tanks and his armor were kept to confirm for himself that the time was now. Asajj's starfighter — deadly and elegant, like its pilot — was gone.

"Recite your orders, One." Hevy snapped the shoulder bolts closed and reached for his helmet. Asajj had destroyed the electronics and Hevy hadn’t been able to fix them, not totally. He slipped in the transmitter he’d made from stolen parts and clipped it to some wire he had opened up. He was pretty sure he had all the capability he would need: incoming transmissions, outgoing transmissions, live vocals, and a cache of pre-recorded messages in a deadman’s trigger. In case he didn’t get to tell her, and for Echo and Fives.

"Prisoner transfer to Count Dooku's personal carrier, Republic Dog."

"Say it like you mean it," Hevy chuckled as he pulled on his helmet, pausing a moment to… admire? wonder at how close death had been? …the black crackling on the back of his helmet. He should have died then.

"Prisoner transfer to Count Dooku's personal carrier, Republic Scum."

Hevy tested the vocals. “Sounds like you mean it, One. Very good.”

An appropriate response was not in One’s simplified programming, so One stood there unmoving and waiting.

Two, re-confirm your orders."

“Continuing monitoring the main bridge of Grievous’ ship and wait by the entry until the mistress returns.”

“Very good, Two.” Not that Asajj would ever get back on Dooku’s ship if Hevy had anything to do about it. “Let’s go.” He took a deep breath and moved toward the exit of Asajj’s ship with One at his side.

He'd faced death before, on Rishi. Surely it would be easier the second time around. 

Once on Dooku's ship, Hevy set up his receiver for passive input. He could go active and transmit to his brothers, but that would alert the enemy and the droids would be able to triangulate his position much quicker. Passive, he could hear much of the battle from the Republic fighters as they slipped in and out of range. And really, it wasn't as if they could get him off Dooku’s ship.

He’d go active when it was necessary, not before. 

One escorted him out of the big ship’s hangar through a bevy of stevedore droids. Then Hevy moved quickly through empty corridors, One letting him know when to pretend he was a prisoner by monitoring the B1 transmissions. Other equipment he'd stolen from the storeroom was stored in his belt pouches, his own blaster tucked in its holster, Two's blaster in a carry-all slung over One's back.

Behind his helmet, a frown pulled at his lips. The ship was larger than he had imagined. Horrendously larger.

“One, take me to Dooku’s private carrier.”

One paused, his head tilted. Then he gestured to the left. “This way, Republic Dog.”

He didn’t make it that far before a tactical droid noticed he was armed.

* * *

_ "I'm sorry, Asajj." His voice was soft and she heard the pain in it. Something inside her answered that pain. Regret, perhaps? "I will not betray my brothers."  _

Echo, armored up and assisting the medics and mechanics in the hangar deck, recognized that voice. "What the ..?". He glanced toward Coric and closed commed him then, with permission, ran toward the closest large receiver which happened to be on the  _ Resolute's _ bridge. 

"Hevy," he called through his helmet speaker in one-to-one mode as he ran, hoping his brother was close enough. He got a ping, but nothing more. He bit his lip as he realized why Hevy wouldn't be able to answer. "Echo here, I'll be ready for any large transmission in a few moments. If necessary, I'll stream to Fives."

_ "The clones are betrayed. As the Jedi betrayed my first master. You are nothing to them – but their bloody hands of war." Asajj was livid at his disobedience. Dooku would destroy him if he was discovered. “Return.” _

"What the…?" Obi-wan didn't recognize that odd flare in Ventress' Force signature which snaked out and seemed to be unexpectedly gentle. Kenobi reached out to the fan-bladed fighter wrecking havoc among the Republic pilots. Beneath the anger and rage which drove Ventress, were pain and despair so evident to him now. She missed her next shot and didn't bother with a Y-wing which was in her path far too long. Ventress was reaching through the Force. Her anguish at not being able to reach far enough brought tears to Kenobi's eyes.

_ Hevy was silent for a moment, wanting her to say he’d been something to her, but it didn't come. He had wanted to know he'd been important to her. That he'd been unique. He sighed softly with a smile. It didn't matter. Not really. He loved her and that was sufficient. He chuckled. THAT made him unique. He bent to his task, forcing his mind to attention. He couldn't afford to let it drift now.  _

_ He had recorded his words so there would be no emotional ambiance to alert Dooku. They were simply packets of electronic fuzz. The droids would trace his transmissions but might assume he was just another B1. The Republic star fighters would hear him but there wasn’t anything to identify - simply stray transmissions. He had to work quickly,  _

Anakin heard a soft sigh and recognized it for what it was. He'd heard it so many times in his own voice in speaking with Padme. "What the…?"

_ "Perhaps. But that's them, not me. It isn't any side of the Force, Asajj, or any part of the Republic or Separatist. Simply who I am." _

Fives recognized that voice on direct line with Echo. He grinned widely. Hevy was alive and near. He could be rescued. Fives tried to pinpoint where the transmission was coming from and received a coordinate deep from within Grievous' ship. He frowned. "What the …?"

_ "And the traitor?" Asajj retorted. "Did he know nothing?" _

Rex closed his eyes in pain. Christophsis loomed in his memory.

Echo made the bridge, reached over the arm of the sergeant and made sure the receiver was set on record. Unknowingly, Echo ssh-ed not only the communications chief, but Admiral Yularen as well. His fingers flew over the com board. He pulled off his bucket obstructing his view and handed it to someone standing beside him. Echo pulled through his memory for the codes they had made up - the day on Kamino, the vector. Today it was Cutup’s designation and, in anticipation of further messages from Hevy, he input Kamino’s day into his helmet first thing each morning. His voice held a note of wonderment as blue light began to form an image. He smiled in wonder as, behind him, other voices spoke. "What the…?"

_ "Maybe he was afraid of being who he was; maybe he was afraid of dying. Maybe he was afraid of looking into our brothers' dead eyes."  _

_ Hevy's fingers worked the stolen detonators around the plunk droids as he chose the pre-recorded phrase. He couldn't chance speaking to her live because he knew Dooku was on board, had to be on board something this big. And Dooku would find him through his emotions if he hadn’t recorded almost everything he meant to say. He still might notice a strange mind on his ship, but Hevy had a plan that would, hopefully, take care of that. _

_ To Hevy’s regret, he hadn't made it to the Count's private carrier and One had been destroyed at the entrance to this supply depot along with the tactical droid. There was no option of using a remote here. There wasn't enough time. He didn't know the ship, couldn't find a dock, couldn't fly even if found one. She'd be back soon. _

_ Then he saw the plunk droids. Thousands of them resting against the deck walls, waiting for a signal to go somewhere to refuel something and, laughing, he'd known what to do. He approached them like they were old friends. _

Admiral Yularen raised an eyebrow at the clone trooper now working over the transmission console, whose helmet had been thrust into his hand. He hadn't been ssh-ed by anyone since he'd been a child in school, long before this clone's birth. Yet, he recognized the intensity and touched Marker on the shoulder, silently ordering him to move aside with a nod. Blue light welled up from the computer as it transcribed the transmission. "What …?" Yularen's eyes glittered and the admiral began to grin as he recognized the skeleton of a war frigate forming in the holoscreen. He noted modifications of known CIS designs.

The clone tilted his head then looked down at the board, his fingers working more slowly. A second hologram came into view – Yularen gasped. That was real-time transmissions from Grievous's bridge, Count Dooku at his side and how the  _ nine hells _ had anyone gotten that?

"Feed that to local," he commanded. The clone did so with an absent flick of his fingers, still frowning, and Marker pulled it up on another console, sending it to relevant command groups.

A third holo was pulled on the bridge. An archived information dump. Yularen, not a betting man, would bet his  _ Resolute _ against anything that dump was full of CIS codes. Again the clone tilted his head. "How many layers, Hevy?" he muttered as his fingers danced over the console.

The answer was four. The last hologram was also real time. It showed a clone, helmet obviously on the deck at his side, in black streaked armor kneeling behind something. A fueling plunk droid, Yularin absently identified, doing something with whatever he held in his hands. 

"Aw, Hevy," said the clone at his side as his fingers reached to the blue figure and slipped through the light. The figure noticed him and reached out his own hand, palm to palm. Then he gave a shrug of his shoulders and returned to his task, humming a catchy, little tune. Yularen noted tears in the trooper's eyes. He moved to Marker's side, handing the clone's helmet to another trooper with quiet words of ‘Give him all the time he wants’.

_ "Fear is a powerful motivator." Had he been referring to the traitor or to himself?. He still wasn't sure. If he saw her again, he would . . . what? Betray them all? Betray himself? He wasn't sure if he was hurrying because he didn't want her to die in the blast or because he didn't want to be caught. And the droids were coming. He could feel the vibration of their metal feet on the deck, a counterpoint to the deep rumbling of the ship itself. They must have caught his transmission. He felt a moment's sympathy for One. He smiled as Echo reached out a hand. Good vod, Echo. And Fives. And dead Droidbait and Cutup. "Joining you soon, vode."  _

General Grievous didn't recognize the voice, but he did recognize that the transmission was coming from his ship. "What…?" It came out as part growl, part snarl and hacking cough. 

Count Dooku's eyes widened as one of the droids brought up the image of a clone doing something near some plunk droids. Dooku frowned, rage coloring his face. He reached out through the Force to touch the clone's mind. It was near, far closer than the fighters zipping through space but alone. A single infiltrator - possibly an ARC. 

Happy thoughts greeted him. Some endless little tune circled through his head.

_ Happy, happy. Plunk, plunk, plunk, plunk. Lover-ly explooo-sions. _ The clone hummed beneath his breath then began repeating it.

"He's on board, sir." One of the droids turned towards the Count, somewhat less destructive than General Grievous. "Should I send some…"

"Yes, yes," commanded Dooku as he angrily turned away from the bridge with a look of cold hatred at Grievous.

_ Hevy looked at the plunk droids and patted its broad, flat side. The explosion would escalate, spreading through the ship as the armed plunk droids he'd sent out to various decks all exploded one after another – like dominos. It wouldn't directly destroy something this big, but it would disable sections of it, weakening it for the Republic starfighters. He sighed. There'd probably be time for Count Dooku to escape, but he hoped not. He hoped to catch  _ _t_ _he CIS head of state_ _ off-guard. It would be a crippling blow - if it worked.  _

_ There were plenty of plunks to take down this ship along with Grievous and Count Dooku if he was lucky. What he lacked was time. He glanced toward the doorway where several armed plunks had already started toward command and engineering. Plenty of plunks but his luck and his time had run out. The B1s and battle droids had arrived.  _

_ He slipped his helmet on as he flicked the final explosive into active and sent the plunk off to the middle of the remaining plunks. It would be an enormous, lover-ly explosion. He commed her craft directly. _

_ "I'm sorry Asajj." His voice came into the comm unit of her small craft. It was the only part of his message that hadn't been pre-recorded, the only part that carried no code. The only part that had no presence in any ship but hers. It was live because it didn't seem right to tell her over some recording. Even though she’d also receive a transmission packet triggered by his death. _

_ He'd been wrong. Dying a second time was no easier. It was harder, the regrets fiercer, the urge to run and retreat even greater. _

_ "I promise I'll love you for the rest of my life." _

She heard that vibrant timbre of his voice and saw in her mind his cocky half smile. "

There was the bloom of an explosion and she knew it had been on Grievous' ship. For a moment shock held all her thoughts in abeyance.  Then - the galaxy would be less for his absence.

Asajj didn't cry for him. Not during the fight, not during the retreat, and not later.

But sometimes she dreamed of him and, in his youthful simplicity, he smiled and promised her everything would be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seemed to recall a second Malevolence being planned when I skimmed Wookiepedia once, but can't find it anymore. Not that I’ve looked very hard.
> 
> There will be one epilogue taking place on Boz Pity and you might want to Wookiepedia Boz Pity, Ventress, and Alpha-17.


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words, lots of words here. I could have cut this chapter into two or even three but I like the continuity of getting it all down in one.
> 
> You might want to skim Wookiepedia for 'Asajj Ventress', Battle of 'Boz Pity' and 'Alpha-17' before reading this chapter. It will make a bit more sense. Scratch that — a lot more sense.

**Boz Pity**

**Two years later**

Ventress woke on the Republic medical transport. She’s been wounded and, for survival, had lowered her body processes until they thought her dead. Even Kenobi, perceptive as he often was, thought she was dead. She supposed she might be in some way. 

Light-headed, she moved silently through the corridor to the cockpit. It was a simple thing to commandeer the ship, to touch their minds with the Force. 

"Where to, sir?" asked the navigator, his fingers poised over the controls.

"Just far away. Far from the Jedi, from this war, from Count Dooku. Just fly as far away as you can." 

The navigator gave a curt nod and entered a new destination which the pilot glanced over then murmured an agreeing word. Asajj Ventress didn’t care where they had decided on and turned back to the remainder of the ship. She felt like fine energy, too strong to remain constrained in her own body.

There were other life forms on the ship, wounded, pained, hurt both physically and emotionally. 

_ Like you are, Asajj _ , Hevy whispered to her softly, his warm breath on her neck and his comforting presence at her back.  _ They're my brothers. Don’t hurt them. _

Hevy had so rarely asked her for anything, preferring their battle of wills. She smiled and heard his answering chuckle. Asajj felt loved by this imaginary hug and, for the only time in her life, simply let it exist between them. After all, it was only a dream. The final taste of life’s memory before she died.

They were in the medical unit. Clones. Asajj shook her head. No, not merely clones, more than clones. Hevy's brothers. Individuals. Strong men giving their all for something they believed in.

They were lucky men. She didn’t believe in much. Not anymore.

The four bacta tanks of the ship were occupied while the remainder of the wounded lay on gurneys and cots. The most wounded from the battle of Boz Pity. She felt a bond of kinship with them.

One, not yet triaged and waiting in a side room, recognized her and lifted his blaster, but his chest and arm were bloody and he was too weak to aim. The blaster fell from his fingers and he gave a cry. Not of pain, though she knew that was there, but of his inability to protect his brothers.

"Sleep," she told him as the winds of space swept through her. She recognized it now. She was dying and becoming less a user of the Force and more a part of it. 

The medics were also battle trained and two grabbed for blasters. She pulled all the blasters from the room. "Sleep", she told them all, and most of them did so. The ones who did not sleep had already died, their shades confused by her perception of them. Most of them seemed to be long-dead, mostly ignoring her as they whispered words and attended to the wounded as midwives attended the newly born.

_ Stay if you wish but when you come, we are always here for you. _

_ We will wait for you however long you need. _

_ Oh my brother, there’s all the time in the world for death. Stay alive a while longer. _

She woke the medics. "Tend to the wounded then sleep." She sat the poor physicality of her body on some flat surface. One medic, a sergeant by his armor, turned to some cabinet and gathered supplies.

"Not much longer, Hevy." Her voice was soft and only Hevy heard her.

_ No, not much longer _ . But Hevy frowned at his words. 

For a long time, since Hevy’s death, there’d been nothing but pain. Asajj longed to reach up and touch her lover's lips with her finger. Her fingers reached, but it was the returning medic whose lips she touched. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, but took her hand and set it next to her as he gently pressed his arm to her shoulders, taking her down to whatever surface was beneath her. She floated, touching space and stars and Kenobi and poor cruel deceived Dooku. Hevy smiled at her then, with help from another ghostly clone, gently took her by the shoulders and pressed her to whatever surface was beneath her… Oh. Her body.

"I don't know how you're conscious, you should be in a tank," the live medic was saying as Ventress listened to his faraway words interspersed with the words of the dead to the wounded. "You don't seem to be in pain but I'll have anodyne ready when you need it."

"I won't need it." She smiled at him. Or was it Hevy she smiled at? The medic seemed truly concerned and she wondered who he thought she was. For a moment she felt sad that she would die under his watch. It wasn’t something he deserved.

He placed the jet injector to her neck and dosed her with a small click of the trigger. Asajj Ventress slammed breathlessly into her body, the intransient colors of space and Force and all that beauty, fading to shadows. Hevy, his smile warm and his golden eyes gleaming, faded with his words. 

_ Not yet, Asajj. Not me. _

"Knew it would work," muttered the medic triumphantly. " _ Kriffing _ , ignorant med droids." He ran his scanner over her then leaned over her face. "Commander," he whispered though it sounded like he was shouting and his breath was a scorching wind over the skin of her cheek. "You'll be over-sensitive to external stimuli for a while. I'd suggest a healing trance. I'll be here for you when you wake."

Ventress wondered again. Who did he think she was? She raised a hand and almost touched his face. "Help your brothers then sleep", she commanded, setting herself in a healing trance as he moved away, stepping through a fading ghost.

* * *

Asajj Ventress returned to the four bacta tanks and pressed a hand to one as she recognized the clone in it, both by his Force presence and by the scars she herself had inflicted. He was asleep and helpless in the tank. She grinned. Oh, he’d hate that. The lightsaber wound, low in his abdomen, would be healed as much as possible in three days.

Asajj checked the other three bacta tanks. They'd all be fully healed and ready to go back to battle within three days. She nodded to herself and went to the cockpit to alter the plans she'd told the pilots. She had them take shifts and remember to eat.

The trance had helped and she wouldn't die of her wounds. She spent time between the cockpit and the med unit, usually meditating. Most of the time she explained Hevy's appearance as a dream or the re-lived memories of a dying mind. Most of the time until she walked into the medical unit. Some of the shades, though not many, remained by their wounded brothers.

The clones slept. She woke the ones in the med unit as necessary to have them feed themselves and exercise their muscles. The medics she woke to attend the wounded. 

One clone hadn't been healing well and the ghosts at his side gestured her over.  _ Please _ , they asked.  _ He’s the last of our squad and none of us has lived much. _

She'd reached her hand over him, doing what needed to be done, doing what neither ghosts or medics could. There was no reason not to. He woke momentarily and Asajj stared into those amber brown eyes. But this clone had no cocky half-smile and his voice held no recognition of her.

"Uh, thank you." He said quizzically as he recognized her and worried that he was being healed for some nefarious purpose.

"Sleep," she told him, touching the back of her fingers to the tattoo dancing along his jaw. "Forget I was here."

_ Thank you _ , the squad of ghosts whispered. Inaudible to all but her.  _ Thank you _ .

Two men died and she followed the medics, their emotions sharp in grief, as they took the bodies to the on-board morgue. They expected her to say something and so she did even though she could see the shades of the two dead men. One was taciturn, eyeing her warily then crossing his arms with a deep sigh and giving her his name. "Wooley, Commander Cody's second in command." The other laughed and turned his head from her, looking beyond her sight into the mass of ghosts, pleasure evident on his face. Only for an instant did he turn back to her. "Boil," he said, his face alight with pleasure, then moved on as though he had more important things to do.

She knew of Wooley, the trusted second of Commander Cody. She gave him a fine eulogy, mentioning work on Christophsis, Ryloth and Geonosis **.** Wooley smirked as she spoke. 

_ Not going to mention Teth, are you? _

She shook her head a tiny bit and he laughed, harsh at first in pained anger then with genuine amusement at her shame and regret. His brother ghosts stood at his side.

Boil, she didn’t know. But she knew the kind of man he had been, the kind of man he must have been, and she gave him the eulogy he deserved.

The one in the bacta tank healed as well as he ever would. Reaching out with the Force, she woke him. He was instantly aware, mentally as battle ready as he’d always been. He recognized her and glared at her with hatred. Through the blue gel, she saw his hand reach for a weapon that wasn’t there.

"Hello Alpha-17. It has been a long time." She bowed her head and sucked in her lower lip, worrying it with her teeth. "Perhaps not that long in time, but so long in my mind. A lifetime." She moved away from the bacta tank. His hate was unnerving. It was personal, not a trooper's for the enemy but his hatred for her and what she had done.

"I have no more taste for war, for torture. I am heading to the Outer Rim and will drop you off at a neutral planet. Along with seven medics, two from battle. There is a pilot and a navigator aboard. I will not need them. They and the other three in bacta tanks will need to assist the medics with thirty-seven wounded." She looked him in the eyes, her crystal blue to his velvet brown and gave the wicked smile he would remember. "I didn't think you'd want to leave them with me." His agreement was a rage of red anger.

She paused, her eyes moving over his form. He looked different than he had when she’d had him in chains and restraints. Or maybe it was her eyes that saw differently now.

"I do not think you will ever walk again. Grievous' light saber went through you, sliced into your spinal cord at the third lumbar vertebra. The bacta tank cannot heal a wound already cauterized." She felt his momentary loss of self at the news before his mind turned back to information and plans. Like Hevy, long ago on her ship, nothing fully fleshed out but open to opportunities that might become available.

Alpha didn't completely believe her. Not about the other clones, not about his own wound. There were too many lies and half-truths in her past. Yet she seemed different. Empty. She left him in the bacta tank, awake, but turned a monitor so he could see the wounded and the medics. For a moment he thought they were dead then he saw breathing, the gentle movement of sleeping men.

"I will return in several hours so you will sleep." she glanced down at the monitor. "I thought it inconvenient to have clones awake and wandering around, so they are all asleep." She departed the room returning several hours later to add melatonin and other neurotransmitters to his bacta tank. He saw her flick off the monitor as his eyes shut.

She woke him each day and flicked the monitor on for him. Then she would go into the med unit and wake the others - the medics to heal, the wounded to eat or move. He saw they were alive and part of him rejoiced and part of him wept as he wondered what terrible thing she would do to them. He had barely survived her and he was ARC. These were troopers and medics. 

After three days, he saw her go in among the wounded. She woke the medics and ordered them to prepare to evacuate the wounded, told them to forget her. She came to the bacta tanks and released the other three troopers and gave them instructions as well. All Forced enhanced. Then she turned to him, her crystal blue eyes inspecting him as closely as any Kaminoan ever had.

"We're on Arkanis, Alpha-17. Near Hutt trade routes, near the Corellian Run. It should not be too difficult for you to get back to Coruscant or the front lines." She paused. "If you want to go back. The end is coming soon for the Jedi. Order 66 will be given within two or three months."

She was silent a while, pacing around the bacta tanks, setting equipment in proper order and storing supplies. A delaying tactic, he decided, until she knew what to do with him. Then she faced him and spoke. "I will give you your choice. For our history together." A corner of her lips quirked, in memory or pain, he couldn't tell. "Would you prefer to be released now and given Force commands so you will not interfere with me or would you prefer to wait and I will release you immediately before my departure with no commands?"

He hated her. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to wrap his fingers around her slender, delicate neck and squeeze the life out of her. He visualized it as vividly and in as much detail as he could because she was touching his mind. From the silken texture of her skin to the small crack of the hyoid bone as it snapped beneath his thumbs. He imagined pinpricks of blood forming in her eyes as intracranial blood pressure rose and burst capillaries.

"I see." Her voice was soft. "You prefer to wait." But she didn't move.

Asajj let out a puff of air. Hevy had once had his fingers on her neck, those self-same arteries, deliberating whether to kill her or not. He had not. She didn’t think he had ever killed someone but Alpha had. His mental thoughts were much too visceral and accurate to be simply imagined.

She turned to leave then paused. She spoke without looking back at him. "If you would give me your promise not to hinder me in any way, I would trust you. You could wait in the cockpit and view everything through the monitors or you could be taken planetside with the rest of the men and direct them in their preparations."

It was obviously not an offer he'd expect of her.

He mentally poked at her words, searching for a trap, then agreed. He could keep his hate, but he would keep his word as well. She remembered Hevy's words.  _ We have only our names, our promise and our life to give. _ Alpha-17 lived by that code as well. She could feel it imbued in his every thought. She started the de-tanking process and called one of the medics to assist him.

They were still off-loading the wounded when she came up to the cockpit where he'd ordered the medic to take him. The anti-grav lift the medic had used to transport him was by his side as he sat in the pilot's seat. He was wearing his dark bodysuit but nothing more.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing to one of the containers that had been off-loaded. It sat near some armor and she knew that surprised him as well. She was giving them back their armor.

"Medical supplies for the wounded then for trade if you wish. It might make it easier to find a ship and pilot for transport. I will not leave a transmitter with you. I wish to be long gone before anyone arrives." Her expression wasn’t one he’d ever seen on her before. "I thought it a reasonable compromise."

He nodded. "What about our weapons?" They were clone troopers. They were naked without their weapons. Not him, though. What other people called weapons were merely tools to him.

"They are in the last case I will unload. It will be locked so you will have no chance to fire on the ship as I depart, but you should be able to decipher the keycode sufficiently quick." Her lips quirked. “Try names. Start with the letter Aurek.”

He leaned back, clumsily, and cursed. He'd known he wouldn't be able to walk or even feel his legs with his spinal column cauterized, but hadn't realized that the spine controlled so much of his movement from the waist as well. He didn't realize how much movement he'd done without thinking about it. He set himself back into the chair with his arms, his useless legs dangling. She did not offer help. There'd never been kindness in her. He hadn't thought she would, but still, he appreciated that she let him manage by himself. There'd never been pity in her either.

His brain mocked him. If there was no compassion in her, then why had she trusted him? If there was no kindness, why was she leaving them on this planet rather than killing them? If there was no kindness why was she giving them armor, weapons, trade goods….? And the keycode?

"What do you know of Order 66?" Even the Jedi didn’t seem to be aware of that contingency. Or if they were aware of it, they ignored it.

She leaned back in the pilot's seat and closed her eyes. "It is the first order into a far darker future. It is a contingency order to destroy the Jedi as traitors and you are flash-drilled to carry it out with a biological chip to ensure compliance." She shook her head. "It is thought to be impossible to disobey, although some clones will. The Empire will chase them down like the traitors they will become."

"You mean the GAR." 

She opened her eyes and there was something otherworldly in her crystal blue gaze as she watched the wounded being moved. "The Republic won't last even as long as the burning Jedi temple on Coruscant. The Republic is mostly gone already." She gave a snort. "Then again, I suspect I am a cynic."

He thought about that. He thought about his brothers and looked out the window to see medics and men moving the wounded beyond the blowback range of the transport. "What happens to the clones?"

"As a group they are absorbed into the Imperial army. They go to war. They die. The same they do now." She looked at him. "And if they survive battle, they die before their time. The Empire will be less kind to them than the Republic. This war has lasted three years and I am sick of it all. The Empire will bring war for twenty years." She leaned back in the pilot's seat and closed her eyes again.

Alpha sucked in his breath. He didn't know anything besides war, but sometime long ago he had tucked a memory of a dream in his mind. A dream of no-war. Of clones not dying, even sleeping in stasis - peaceful.

Of course, he was useless for war now, anyway. They might send him to Kamino for terminal reconditioning or they might allow him to retire, an option the CTs did not receive.

"Are you going back to Rattatak?" He'd been there. Imprisoned. Tortured. By her. Most of the scars on his body were hers. Rattatak was not a place he wished to ever visit again.

She shook her head. "Not Rattatak. There is nothing there for me." She paused. "There is nothing in me now but emptiness. I need to…"

He saw her lips tremble, twist as though she were trying not to cry. Kriff! The very thought of Ventress crying was almost enough to destroy the galaxy.

"I don't know," she finally said in a weak voice.

He believed her.

Alpha set aside his personality and reached into the empty place. He normally used that in battle. It was the place where action came from; where one could act in accordance without thinking. Most of the ARCs had been trained in that reaching and he'd heard it was like a Jedi touching the Force. It was an extension of ramikadyc where the mind and body were tools to an end rather than a self-aware entity.

He set himself in that place where he did not exist and watched his truest actions.

His upper body tried to turn to Ventress, his hands grabbed the arms of the seat to keep from falling out. Heard himself curse. Heard his voice …

"Would you like a co-pilot?"

He saw her nod, softly, slowly. As tentative as first-time pilot.

Two months later he had those dangling, worthless appendages removed. They were a hindrance in the null of space. Different muscles took over stabilizing his core and he re-learned how to sit. The powerchair became his primary means of movement on a planet or when the ship traveled under gravity and he loathed it. In time, he promised, he would obtain - somehow - cybernetics.

Ventress spent much of her time in meditation or in refining her martial arts. She didn't practice with her light sabers though. She saw his face when she practiced, saw the longing and desire to join her in one of those beautiful katas. He missed the perfection that had been his workouts. He strengthen his core and upper body, but there was nothing for the rest of him. He snorted in disgust. There was very little 'rest of him'.

Most of the time he wondered if coming with her had been the wrong action. Then, one day, he made a joke about nerfherders and light bulbs. Her lips had twitched in humor and he had laughed. "Asajj, you do have a sense of humor!"

She turned on him, her face anger and need and tears and something bitter and old and hurt. She was about to say something. He knew better than to do anything more than observe. Her mouth opened. . .

He waited, wondering if he would die today.

A long keening burst forth along with a Force wind. Pent up emotion drained from her like an abscessed wound while flimsies whirled around the room. She dropped to her knees, her face tucked in her arms against the floor, sobs shaking her body.

Alpha moved himself next to her using his strong arms to pull himself backwards, positioning himself next to her. He silently cursed that he didn't have much of a lap for her to lay upon, but he gave her what he had. She moved, put her arms around him and sobbed into his chest, her hips where his legs had once been. Several times she hit him with her fists against his chest. A few bruises were nothing.

He put his arms around her, just holding her. No soft murmurs or words of comfort because for some pain there were no words. Just holding her. She'd done the same when he'd had the legs removed.

"They're marching on the temple." Her voice sounded far away and her body shook. Emotions demanding release caused the tremors and tears. "The 501st. Order 66 is happening now." She was quiet for a moment, pushing away the immediacy of what was happening. Pushing away those deaths she had once longed for. Pushing away from him in perceived weakness. 

Alpha wished he could walk. He would pick her up and carry her to her cabin, hold her and wipe those tears away. His mind skittered over what might happen if he could have done that so he simply held her. Her tears soaked into the material of his shirt and she brushed at them, unaware they were hers until she reached to her face. For a moment, her face turned to stone. This Asajj Ventress was the one who had tortured him and Kenobi on Rattatak. Then her expression softened in wonder.

"Asajj. The last man to call me Asajj was also a clone. He was my prisoner. He was my lover." She touched a scar on Alpha's face with a shaking finger. She had put it there. New tears formed in her crystal-colored eyes and ran down her cheeks. "Even now I am not sure what information he gave the GAR during his imprisonment. It was a battle neither of us won. A battle neither of us could win. In the end, he escaped the safety of my ship and blew up critical portions of General Grievous' destroyer. Dooku was there and barely escaped. That's how Hevy died. Perhaps he won because he chose his death." 

Alpha nodded, acknowledging a brother's sacrifice. 

"I never mourned him. I was angry with him for deserting me." She thought for a minute and gave Alpha something he would understand. "He gave me his name and his promise that he loved me. When he gave his life it was not only for his brothers but also for me. Dooku's death at that time would have freed me in a way.” Her voice softened to a whisper as if she spoke of something she had just discovered. “Hevy was not only my lover, he loved me."

Alpha quoted, "I have only my name, my promise and my life to give, but they are mine to give as I will." He rubbed her back with a hesitant touch. "It's not true, of course. Our lives were the Republic’s to take and only sometimes our own."

Asajj took a breath, deep and healing.

“The only other person to call me Asajj was my first teacher, a Jedi called Ky. He found me on Rattatak and intended me to go to the Jedi temple for training. That never happened. Where might I be if it had?"

"Dead." Alpha said, unemotionally. Again her lips quirked then she ducked her face to hide the smile.

"You are probably correct.” Quicksilver change and her expression was somber. “Even now, I can feel absences. Windu, Skywalker, Unduli, Secara, Fisto… They are dead." Her eyes narrowed. "Yoda is alive, Kenobi." She sniffed and covered her face with her hands. When she moved them, her face was her own again, stoic and under her control. She started to rise.

Alpha grit his teeth at her being that much taller than him. He disliked looking up at her, regretted what had happened to him not just for the wounding but for his own mental self-worth. He tended not to look up at her when they talked except when she was seated eye-level with him in the galley. He grabbed her wrist before she stood and pulled her down. Now, he could look into her face, into her eyes. 

She folded herself into a meditation posture. It forced room between them though their eyes were level with each other's. Alpha understood that. She thought her outburst was a weakness in front of her enemy. The posture was a way for her to mentally regroup. She looked at him, her ice-blue eye soft with questions. Definitely not Commander Ventress of the CIS.

Alpha thought a moment to the start of the conversation, what seemed to precipitate her reaching out to what was going on outside this ship on Coruscant. "Do you not want me to call you Asajj?"

"I don't know." She paused. "Ventress is not who I am anymore." She glanced down at her hands, relaxed by long habit in pose. "Asajj has good connotations associated with it. I think I would like you to call me Asajj."

"Asajj," he said, his hand pushing at her shoulder. "Go mourn your past and who you were, because neither exist anymore."

Asajj meditated. She looked back on her life and let the tears fall for all the sadness in the galaxy. So much sadness and pain. So much caused by her. So much caused by anger and hate and fear. Toward the end of her meditation she opened her eyes and was unsurprised to see Hevy seated across from her. He smiled and reached out to brush a tear from her cheek. He gave a soft shrug with one shoulder. 

_ Love didn't end just because I died.  _

_ Ha, you’re getting maudlin in your old age, Hevy.  _ It was a voice behind him. She recognized it as clone but saw only flashes of movement, not a ghost as she’d seen when she was dying. Hevy turned his head toward the other voice.

_ Shut up, ‘Bait. You have the rest of eternity to tease me but this is new to Asajj.  _ He turned his attention back to her.  _ It is, you know. You’ve never really had anyone. No one to protect your back. No one to tease you, to love you, to hold you when you needed it. You were little more than a child in a woman’s body. There was no one to take care of little Asajj except you. A very serious little girl-child with power beyond her understanding that everyone else wanted.  _ He knelt to one knee, brushing his forehead to hers.  _ I was a young and brash idiot with even less experience than you. I’m so sorry, Asajj, that I failed you too. I’m so sorry I died. _

He looked away, behind him where she could not see, then stood and bent over her. He kissed her on the cheek and she gasped, feeling the physical touch of his lips. 

_ It's not me though, Asajj. _ Hevy gestured his head toward the cockpit of the transport.  _ It's Alpha. He's your future and it's a good future _ . He gave her a cocky grin.  _ Don't mess it up _ . She laughed, one hand coming up to cover her lips. Then he was gone.

Asajj stood from her meditation and moved back to the cockpit. Alpha turned his head back to her and there was the barest relaxation, the slightest upward curl to his lips as he saw her. He was so different from Hevy - far more serious, far more experienced in life. Her lips twitched. Not a young and brash idiot. 

Yet there were similarities to Hevy as well. That deep well of determination and the integrity that was a guiding force.

She came and placed one hand on his shoulder. He tilted his face quizzically up at her. She bent and kissed him, tentatively, on the lips.

He hesitated, glanced down at the power chair with a frown then again into her eyes. His hand reached up, his thumb touching her lips as he stroked her cheek with his fingers. His face relaxed

Her future — a gift from her past — unfurled before her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, in other words...
> 
> They lived happily ever after far away from the Core, the Empire and the rebellion.


End file.
